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sleepingdeath-light · 2 years ago

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hey:D ‼️ slashers x a femme bimbo reader? i would love michael, tommy, vincent+ bo, and jennifer? (whoever else u choose is fine) please and thank you!

Bimbo S/O Headcanons | Multiple Slashers (18+)

thank you for requesting, anon!

reader is assumed as being female and a bimbo

there’s no sex described, but there’s a lot of sexual talk around the reader, hence the smut tag

this includes : billy lenz, brahms heelshire, carrie white, jennifer check, michael myers, the sinclair twins & thomas hewitt

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

billy lenz

billy is a pervert by nature and would have sexualised you irrespective of how you acted or what you wore (when there’s a will, there’s a way and all of that)

but you being a bimbo made it all so much easier and so much more enjoyable for the unknown voyeur

it seemed like everything you did have him an erection as he stared at you through cracks in the ceiling and walls and doors

how your short pink skirt would ride up and show your pretty panties whenever you bent over or sat down

how your tight white shirt did little to hide your breasts or the fact that you’d opted to go braless

the way you frequently stumbled and tripped in those pink heels — exposing your ass to him more often than even he could have wished for

all of that was enough of a dream come true, but the moment you picked up the phone and he got a true exposure to your delightfully ditzy and naively trusting persona this man was a goner

you were his dream-girl through-and-through

his pretty piggy who’s only good at taking billy’s thick cock into her dumb holes

his bimbo that has no chance of escaping him or his lewd calls and comments

of course you were his the moment you stepped foot in his house, but you continuously exposing yourself for him (as he perceived it, anyway) just gave him the go ahead to claim you entirely

and you’d best believe that he’ll want you dressing as sluttily as possible at all times

bo sinclair

although he tends to present himself as the perfect southern gentleman at first glance, bo is a verifiable pervert with pretty much no shame

it would have taken a remarkable amount of self restraint for him to keep up the act in front of your group — especially with you looking and acting like that

tight shirt, mini skirt and a body that he just wanted to lose himself in

god it was like you were made for him, but that could wait until he had splintered your group

but until then, he sated himself by glancing down your top whenever you leaned forwards, lifting up your skirt whenever he got the chance and catching you whenever you tripped (getting away with many less-than-innocent touches due to your obliviousness)

his advances get more and more aggressive and obvious as your group is picked off one by one until you’re the only one left untouched and somehow still oblivious to your situation

and bo finds himself torn between keeping you around as an alibi and a good fuck, or just using and discarding you to vincent as he’d done before

in the end, of course, he ends up deciding to let you live whilst putting on a whole show of wooing you so that you think you’re staying willingly — justifying it by saying you’ll help future “tourists” feel at home

but his brothers can tell that he’s grown more than a little fond of your presence (beyond, even, your sex appeal and naïveté — shockingly to all involved, he actually seems to care)

brahms heelshire

you were not what anyone in the heelshire family were looking for when they sought out a nanny

you were clumsy and naive; not being able to do much in education or housework without inevitably messing something up

you were a veritable slut without the intent; with tiny skirts and translucent shirts that could barely even be considered clothing and that certainly weren’t conducive with the image they wanted to present as a family

but, to brahms, you were perfect

the perfectly dainty damsel in distress for him to leer and gawk at from behind the walls as you went about your day hopelessly attempting to abide by his schedule

and whilst you frequently forgot certain rules, he let you off — equally because he knew you weren’t acting intentionally and because he loved watching you too much to let you go

his favourite times of day were those that necessitated you coming into contact with water or bending over because they gave him the most wonderful views of your body that often appeared in his masturbation fantasies

loves the way you coo over and jokingly scold his doll — actually just loves hearing you say his name and talk to “him”

is much more possessive and protective when it comes to anyone bringing supplies to the house because of, well, everything about you

like it’s all well and good having a pretty little thing with nice tits and ass to stare at all day and night, but issues arise when somebody else gets to look at what’s his

and even if you’re too ditzy and naive to recognise the grocery boy’s intentions, brahms is all too aware of what goes on in a man’s head

and he may just take it upon himself to show everyone, including you, what happens when someone touches what belongs to him

carrie white

carrie was brought up in a highly conservative christian background — so, needless to say, your presence itself would be a significant shock to the poor girl

everything about you is a complete upturning of the values she was raised with, from your personality to the way you dressed

god, the way you dressed was sin personified and every time she caught herself staring she’d mutter a quick prayer for forgiveness

tight white shirts, short pink skirts and high pink heels — a recipe for disaster that she found herself drawn to

those miniskirts would so frequently ride up your thighs and expose your tiny pink panties to anyone who dared to look whenever you stalled in readjusting them (though they were always short enough to expose those thighs of yours)

those shirts that would turn wonderfully transparent whenever you got even slightly damp (be that through rain or spillage) and exposed your otherwise bare chest to prying eyes

those heels that were the cause of so many incidents like those above

and, values be damned, she was more thankful for your obliviousness than anything else as she didn’t know what she’d do if you recognised the way her peers leered at you

how she looked at you with so much lust, with eyes that lingered too long to be innocent on your chest and the apex of your thighs and your ass

how she thought of you whenever she touched herself, one hand balled up in a fist that she bit down on to muffle herself whilst the other crept between her legs to toy with her puffy lips and swollen clit and seeping hole

you, in all of your naïveté and clumsiness, were at the centre of all of her fantasies and she wanted nothing more than to keep you in the dark about it all for as long as possible

jennifer check

you and her will almost inevitably end up sharing clothing and/or accessories because your styles match so well

date nights will consist of you sharing skincare routines and doing each other’s makeup

she uses your nature and appearance to her benefit, ramping up her sexuality with you in public to help lure in men for her to kill and feed on

she repays you with plentiful sex, affection and spoiling with money she gets from her “boyfriends”

will shamelessly ogle you whenever you lean forwards or bend over and gets a kick out of flustering you just as much as when she gets away with being a complete perv

gropes you in public like all of the time and usually plays it off as innocent or accidental — would stop if you asked, though

50/50 whether she lets you in on what she’s doing so you can help or strings you along as an accomplice

loves how oblivious you are and gets off on the power dynamic between you and her as the more experienced, dominant partner

buys you the most transparent, slutty, short clothes that she can find for you both so you can match, she can get food, and she can see as much of you as possible at all times

she will shift targets on a dime if she notices someone getting too close to comfort and taking advantage you in the same way she does — and she makes a point to show everyone that you’re very much so taken

makes you wear underwear that she chooses so anyone else ogling you gets a blatant reminder of who you belong to

michael myers (any)

initially michael found your demeanour more annoying and inconvenient than anything else

you were attractive, of course, but your clumsiness and obliviousness just made him frustrated — made him want to stalk you to force you to notice the word around you

and he did. for well over a month

even going into your home and standing over you as you slept, rearranging things in your house, anything to get you to notice that something was up

but you never did

even when he confronted you on your walk home and started following you, very obviously, you just chatted with him as if nothing was wrong and how much of a coincidence it was you were going the same way

you even complimented his mask — which immediately made you more tolerable

and almost made up for the dozen times he’d watched you trip over thin air or otherwise expose yourself to people unintentionally

after a while he even became somewhat protective, targeting people that were sexually aggressive or otherwise weird towards you to get his frustrations out before returning to his routine of stalking you

at one point he began to masturbate to the sight of you — which he’d never been able to do given his life being spent entirely in an institution with no privacy

he takes full advantage of your naïveté to tease and manipulate you, especially after you realise who he is

he just signs that he won’t hurt you if you let him stay with you and don’t tell anyone he’s there

and you oblige

and he doesn’t hurt you

the only real change is having to deal with him shamelessly staring at you all of the time, but after you get together you don’t really mind so it’s not really that big of a deal

thomas hewitt

everything about you seems perfectly engineered to turn this poor man into a flustered, red-in-the-face, 404-ing mess

you’re not exactly what his mother had raised him to look for in a woman but that made you somehow more attractive? like a forbidden fruit in a sense

your high high heels that you constantly tripped over weren’t exactly made for life in their rural town but your confidence in them made him reluctant to have you change

those teeny-tiny shorts and skirts left nothing to the imagination when it came to those smooth, long legs and those brightly coloured thongs you wore and caused him a lot of trouble whenever he caught a glimpse of you and ended up dropping his tools

your thin white shirts that hoyt always managed to get wet somehow were incredibly form fitting and gave him the perfect view of your chest

but whilst your body and sexuality haunted his mind and left him wanting and guilty when he’d reach between his legs for relief at the end of the day — it was your demeanour that captured his heart and endeared him to you

your naïveté kept you up and out of the way of the family’s dirtier dealings and meant they didn’t have to hide anything too hard as you believed whatever they promised to you

he felt bad for lying but he also knew it was a necessary evil

and your clumsy nature meant that any guests felt more at ease around you, joking around and letting their guard down to flirt with you which made his job a whole lot easier

so, needless to say, you were definitely a good investment for the family even if you kept unintentionally torturing poor thomas with your displays of sexuality and femininity throughout the house

vincent sinclair

you immediately caught vincent’s eye when you entered ambrose because of how different you were from your companions

your clothes were more revealing and feminine: all light colours, cropped edges, frills, pastels and the whole nine yards

definitely a far cry from the muted neutrals and heavy jumpers that he usually saw

more artistically inspiring, barbie like even

it made you attractive, certainly, but it also made him want to preserve you as an art piece even more — he wanted to capture your beauty permanently

but then your personality endeared you to him

you were immediately kind and trusting towards his twin, which painted you as a very naïve person but the genuine way you defended him and scolded your friends for interrupting the “funeral” caught his heart

hell, even bo seemed taken a back by your demeanour (before trying to look down your shirt, of course)

and then there was the clumsiness that gave him the perfect view of each and every angle of your body that those short, tight clothes did little to hide as you stumbled and tripped over your heels in the museum

even gentlemen have their limits and, from what he justified as artistic curiosity, he indulged himself in plenty of looks

you even made him chuckle a few times when you apologised to the figures you fell onto

all of it, to him, made you seem so much better than your companions — someone worth saving and keeping as a living art piece in ambrose

it wouldn’t be hard to convince his brothers, they were always talking about needing some company

and, beside, you didn’t strike him as the sort to be hard to lie to

so if you believed your friends abandoned you, maybe you’d be happy to stay with them — and, maybe, you’d never have to learn about the truth of ambrose and it’s wax museum

and he’d get to ogle you all he liked from behind the safety of his mask (only as an artist, of course! he’d never sexualise you… or at least he tries to claim as much to himself)

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autieofthevalley · 25 days ago

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ATEEZ'S KINKS THOUGHTS 🫦

[MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS OR DNI YOU WILL BE BLOCKED INSTANTLY, BACK TF OUT⚠️]

Okay, so i was watching tiktoks and this idea came to me, this is my thoughts on what kinks each member of Ateez could actually have based on videos i've seen of them and the vibes they give.

HONGJOONG / Daddy Kink

You've seen that man, he's the ultimate dilf, like really. The vibes, his looks, everything. And lately, we discovered that him and Yunho were dominants (based on that recent video with the medium guy). So yes, of course, he's a shy baby, BUT i'm pretty sure, that man is a secret freak, and he LOVES to dominate you. Don't care if you're a bit older or younger than him, he would ADORE being called "Daddy", or even "Captain" (you know what i'm talking about) while he pounds into you. He would, in fact, go even harder if you call him that from your own will, you know you would not be able to walk after that session with him. (The soft aftercare would be always here by the way)

SEONGHWA / Bondage and/or Blindfolded

Now, hear me out on that one. Okay, so i don't know why BUT i feel like Seonghwa would love bondage, either on him or his partner. As well as being blindfolded. I can see him tying up his partner and go down on them after putting a blindfold on them to enhance their other senses. He gives those vibes. He would also adore shibari (!!!), especially on him, as his partner would play with his cock until he's leaking bad, would turn him on so fast to be tied up.

YUNHO / Dacryphilia

Pretty sure it's not a surprise for any of you, because we literally all agreed unconsciously that this mf has a potential kink seeing people crying, turns him on. Firstly, like Hongjoong, he's a dominant for sure, secondly, i know he would (not even as a punishment) be a little meanie sometimes in bed, wanting to see you cry out to him after he edged you and denied all of your orgasms somehow, your tears would fuel him on and eventually, he would give in and obliterate you during at least an hour non-stop making you cry even more of overstimulation.

YEOSANG / Katoptronophilia

If you're not familiar with the term, Katoptronophilia is being sexually aroused when having sex and masturbating in front of a mirror. I'm not sure why, i can see Yeosang, even if he's mostly shy, having this secret kink. Like two faces of the same coin (if you know what i mean). Yeosang would be turned on seeing himself and his partner have sex, even making his partner watch him masturbating. The intimacy of it, the act in itself, he would instantly go all red and come quickly all over his chest, thighs, and hands, even watching his cock disappear inside you through the mirror, he would come so hard.

SAN / Size Kink

I dare you to look me in the eyes and tell San would not have a size kink. Have you seen him??? That mf knows, and he plays with that, as much as Yunho and his hands (but that's another story for another time i think). He would adore have a smaller s/o, loving the effect he would have on you. And he would certainly manhandle you in bed (gently or rough, if you ask him, after all he's a pleasure dom). He would be surely turned on, knowing the difference in size. He would have you pinned to the bed, both your wrists and your hips, enjoying the bulge in your stomach everytime he would hit your insides, a little too much, that man is a freak.

MINGI / Praising Kink

YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT!! This manwhore LOVES and ADORE being praised so much, i could honestly do an hour compilation of him loving the compliments and the barking, he even asks for it most of the time!!! I know he loves when you praise him in bed too, telling how well he fucks you, or how much you love his body. He could come from your praises alone, especially if you're dominant, oh, he's surely coming hard from that.

JONGHO / Strength Kink

WOOYOUNG / Degrading Kink

I know this little shit loves to be degraded and also loves to degrade. He's a real switch and a whole menace, okay? When he degrades, he loves to call you a whore, his little slut while either getting sucked or pounding you the shit out of you, it's getting in his blood and boost his dominant side. When he's being dominated, though.. it riles him up to being degraded, he can honestly come from just you calling him your little whore, without being touched.

Listen to me right now, that man knows how to use his strength, bro knows how to break an apple in two in 0.5 seconds, first of all, that's hot and attractive of him. Secondly, he would surely use that ability in bed, and like San, he would also manhandle you. Would fuck you against a wall without hesitation and would eat you out also against the wall, just supporting your thighs on his shoulders and holding you in place with his bare hands.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

A.N : Happy Halloween my darlings 🎃 i hope you enjoyed my little train of thoughts ♡ make sure to reblog and like if you did !

#divider by cafekitsune #ateez smut #minors do not interact #ageless blogs dni #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez drabbles #ateez unholy hours #ateez hard thoughts #ateez hard hours #ateez x y/n #ateez x you

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dee-daa · 1 month ago

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do you think beelzebub is scared of fly swatters?

#deembles #what in hell is bad #whb beelzebub #minors do not interact #minors dni #mdni #ageless blogs dni #ageless blogs do not interact #ageless dni #ageless do not interact

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envy-of-the-apple · 4 months ago

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😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 i cant believe someones mad that i make rules for my own blog and i enforce them.

like??? i write PORN. not even porn i write like coercive dark rape fantasies. its bad shit yall it aint for kids! im sorry i dont like the idea of 15 year olds reading porn that I've written😭😭😭😭😭

#k but at the same time this person made three different posts about me #kinda flattering ngl ty bestie ily #the funniest thing is that minors/ageless blogs can have have gotten away with interacting with me #i dont check every like #follow #reblog #but if you message me/leave an ask ya i will check those bios #there was a 17 year old who put their age in their bio and was following me for MONTHS before someone thankfully told me about it

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aressapereaude · 11 days ago

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Happy birthday to Vere~!

MINORS DNI

AGELESS/FACELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

Source: Touchstarved

Pairing: Vere x Reader

Contains: Explicit language, alcohol, strong violence, it's Vere what are we expecting, gore, sex??, monsterfucking???, murder, dead dove do not eat, cannibalism, decapitation, nobody is coming, Leander needs a mop.

It is the fourteenth of November.

The air is cold, the ground is not yet frozen over but you find your steps slipping more than they usually do. It tends to happen around this time of year. Everything slows down, and the days are all over so quickly that you're not really sure if they ever happened at all.

He's hungry, you knew that. He has always been hungry.

The hunger has been eating at him for a long time.

You met him through a friend. Well, they weren't a friend at the time... A brief but uneasy encounter outside the Wet Wick, in which you had fallen for a sly pickpocketing trick, and he had dangled it in front of you like an anglerfish, slowly luring you into the light. You did get your key back, in the end. With some interference of course.

Over time, you realised you had a lot in common. He hated the Senobium with a burning passion, and so did you; They had been lauded far and wide as the best of the best, and once upon a time you had hoped they could cure you, but not anymore. Those gates were too strongly locked and far too secretive to let the likes of you inside. After a while you had simply stopped trying, and you found that the more you grew to dislike them, the more you found yourself spending time around the fox with the hungry eyes.

And at first it was nothing, really, just hanging out with mutual acquaintances and bumping into each other around the Wet Wick, but gradually you began to take notice of the way his pupils thinned to pin pricks when he looked at you, the way his fur bristled ever so slightly when you almost came too close. You noticed how his ears tracked you with a strange alertness despite the cool composure he maintained, and how whenever he gave you that sly smirk, the corners of his lips would sort of... flicker.

The closer you got, the more these instances occurred, and it began to dawn on you, the feelings that you had for him. Every now and then, he'd slip you an extra drink and make a smooth remark about taking you home.

When he did, his tail would twitch ever so slightly, and his knee would grow restless, bouncing under the counter. His jaw would clench, and though he did his best to hide it, his breathing would pick up and heave subtly at his chest. But every time, you declined, wanting to wait for a "special moment" and in an instant it was as though it had never happened. He'd go back to the small talk, the teasing, the joking or arguing and there'd be no traces left of that hungry fox who looked at you with a desperate, secret, hidden need.

His eyes look particularly dilated tonight.

It is the fourteenth of November, and you have bought yourself an extra drink tonight. You've bought Vere one, too. He tries not to look hopeful, but you see in your peripheral the way he eyes you up and down when you're facing away from him. He's being less secretive about it tonight, even taking the time to wait until Leander has left the two of you alone.

(Alone, apart from the horned demon sitting at the end of the bar, keeping keen red eyes on you both, and the Senobium cleric outside the bar. You assume she's waiting for him to leave and take up whatever business he has with the nearest brothel. You have a feeling he won't, not tonight.)

"Happy Birthday, Vere. Let's get out of this place for a while," You murmur, leaning in. His keen ears pick up every word, but you don't want the cleric to catch wind of what you're up to.

A thin smile slits across his face, and he offers you his hand, assisting you to your feet. His expression is dark with want, and the dancing candlelight only paints him in a more monstrous light. You don't seem to mind, though, as your footsteps begin to stumble towards the door.

His sharp claws pull you back, knocking you into him, your back flat against his chest. "I was thinking we could use your room tonight."

Your breath hitches in your throat.

"Leander has the key. He won't be back until-"

"Until I'm done," Vere finishes, flashing the keys in front of you the same way he did back then. And you smile.

Ais red eyes linger on your backs until the very last moment you leave his view. As the two of you sneak off together, you shoot a quick look back to make sure you're alone.

He doesn't move from his seat.

Vere locks the door behind you and tosses the key before he pounces, a mess of hair and claws. There's a calm desperation in the way he rips your clothes off you, and the way you fiddle with the straps around him. The low growl caught in his throat spills forward as he pushes you backwards, teeth clacking against yours and splitting your lip, and the pleasure and relief shudders through him when he plunges into you.

Blood splatters across the hardwood floor.

For a moment you stand there, stunned at the explosion of colour, and then it hits you all at once. The pinprick eyes. The attentive ears. The charm, and the twitches, and the ever so slight flash of fangs each time he asked you to come with him. There is blood on the floor, and it dawns on you with a sickening crunch that this is your blood, your viscera that is now congealing between the floorboards, and it is so dark in this room.

He's panting, moving with a disturbing nonchalance for someone with such a feral look on their face. The arm that had split your belly open twists with another sick crunching noise and you feel it now, the agony as he takes a handful of intestines and squeezes.

You start to throw up, but nothing comes out.

This isn't how tonight was supposed to go. This isn't how you wanted him inside you- but then, he is inside you, isn't he? Making a mess of your organs and lapping up the fluid that leaks from your clenching abdomen, burying his face in your soft thighs...

Only to take an enormous chunk of muscle between his teeth and rip it clean off the bone. The look in his eyes is euphoric, instinctive. How could you be so stupid? Any other time you'd have loved to see him make a face like this. But now, as he shivers with satisfaction, you wish you could have died when his lips touched your lips.

You don't know when your head hits the floor but it does, and you don't feel it. Vere stands above you, violating every inch of your body in his bloodied arms, bits of your meat and sinew plastered across his cheeks and hair, dribbling down his neck and you can't tell if he's fucking you or eating you and you don't think there's a difference anymore because you're being devoured either way.

Your final thought, to your confusion, is Leander. This is his spare room, after all. What's he going to say when he gets back? Will he be angry at you for making such a mess of the floor and walls?

Clinging to life, you fade away to the sound of Vere's sharp teeth snapping through your bones.

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mossy-opal · 2 years ago

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Not Yours Anymore

Tomura Shigaraki x Reader

WARNINGS: Stalking, Obsessive Behaviour, Mentions of Harassment, Hints of Abuse, Mentions of Murder, Smut (consensual)

He was here again.

Tomura didn’t like the hero who frequented your area, he was your ex after all. It was one of the reasons he fell so hard for you, obsessed over you so much. You left him after you got your own place, it made things a lot easier for Tomura.

It was easier to get in, easier to get out, easier to take things from you, and easier just to watch you. Admire you. Adore you. He wanted to be with you, so badly. He wanted to lay next to you, to hold you when you cried, or help you when you remembered what you’d gone through. Your ex was a hero to society, sure. But he was a monster to you.

Tomura hated him…

But, the hero wasn’t exactly his problem. He didn’t want to step on your toes or hurt you by hurting your ex. What if you still had feelings for that asshole? He didn’t want to ruin your relationship by ripping his arms off and shoving them up his ass.

It wasn’t his call.

Besides, he was content on the side lines for now. He got to steal your hoodies every so often, falling asleep with them wrapped around one of his pillows, letting him pretend it was you. He wasn’t all innocent though, he knew that. He gave your panties back every once in a while, so he wasn’t all bad.

He really wasn’t all that bad.

You were used to much worse.

You had been living in the area for a few months after you left Jerred- er- “Night Lock” as he was known to the public. He was far worse than your little admirer, whoever it was. Jerred was an asshole, through and through. He lied, cheated, manipulated…. He hurt you.

You hated him for what he put you through, and you were elated when you finally left him.

You just wished he’d leave you alone…

It wasn’t like you could tell the police, he was a “hero”, after all. The only people who truly believed you were your closer friends, and they couldn’t do much to help you, or protect you. Security cameras were far too expensive, and you knew he was smart.

He harassed you when you went to work, harassed you when you got home, begged you to get back with him when you were grocery shopping, it made you scream in your pillows at night!

… You were exhausted…

But you weren’t alone. Despite how much you hated him, you knew Jerred well. He didn’t break into places, he didn’t steal meaningless objects, much less your panties. Whoever it was they seemed… Shy.

As demented as it sounded, you were far more scared of Jerred than you were of your new stalker. The stalker didn’t hurt you, didn’t break any of your possessions, didn’t touch you or threaten you or your friends, all they did was… Live in your house when you weren’t there. They slept in your bed and poorly remade it every time. They cleaned up after themselves, and only so often took some of your dirty clothes. They were certainly a pervert though, because you noticed quickly when your panties went missing, only to reappear nice and clean… It was unsettling, but slightly comforting…

You reached your boiling point one day on your way home from work, he grabbed you.

"We need to talk."

"I don't have anything to say to you, let me go-"

"No, you have to listen to me-"

“If you don’t let go of me I will fucking scream. Wanna test it?”

Jerred’s grip tightened, before he let go roughly.

"We have to talk...!"

You pushed past him, “No, we don't...!"

•

That same night, you huffed, looking at yourself in the mirror, seeing a hand-shaped bruise on your arm. This was ridiculous, and you were done… You just didn’t know what to do anymore, you were at a loss. Police wouldn’t help you, your friends couldn’t help you…

Going on a walk was your best bet, not only that, you hoped your admirer would be there.

He was. He watched you get grabbed by that “hero”, and he swore it made his blood boil. He couldn’t do anything, just pretend to play on his phone, acting as inconspicuous as possible as he plotted murder. Making sure you got home safe, he noticed almost immediately the change in your routine… You never went on walks…

You stopped in a dark area of the park, which made him stop a good bit behind you, immediately walking to casually lean against a tree, out of your sight.

“I know you're there..."

His blood ran cold… You could’ve been talking to someone else.

“Please I... I don't know what else to do..."

He wasn’t sure if he should… But he hated hearing you suffer like this.

“What is it?”

His voice shocked you, he actually sounded quite nice, you expected someone much more shy. “U-uh… I just… I’m scared… Not of you, but of…”

“Night-whatever-his name is? The hero?”

“Jerred… My ex… H-he’s been-"

"Watching you, I know. What about it?”

“I can’t do anything about it and I’m scared..! I… I need help..”

Tomura rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue, “Call the cops then.”

He could hear you shake your head, “He’s a hero, they won’t… They won’t believe me…” You sighed, “I’ve tried…”

Tomura sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Of course you had tried before, why wouldn’t you? No wonder you were so scared, there was nothing you could really do.

“Go home… It’s late.”

“Can… Can I see you?”

Shigaraki felt his face flush as his eyes widened, “No. Not yet.”

You frowned and folded in on yourself, taking yourself home for the evening and going to bed.

•

The next day you were more than exhausted, but you were mostly unbothered. Work went smoothly, your friends checked in on you… The next day, you expected Jerred to bother you, but you didn’t see him. For another week you didn’t see him, until the police knocked on your door.

The hero Night Lock has been missing.

After you explained yourself to the police and told your friends, you suddenly felt… Like a weight was lifted off of your shoulders. Like you could sleep at night, no longer scared your door would be kicked in, no longer waking up screaming because of the nightmares…

You opened the window to your bedroom and looked out at the nights sky, and you fell to your knees, crying.

Did… Did Tomura do something wrong?

He got rid of your ex for you, made him suffer before killing him too, did you not want him to kill him? You should’ve specified if you wanted him alive- You asked him for help and you were crying!?

“A-are you… T-there..?”

Tomura jumps a bit, but doesn’t move. You sniffle, wiping your face.

“P-please say something…”

He doesn’t, maybe you were setting him up- This was so stupid he should just kill you and move on-

“Thank you…”

He looked at you from where he was, you had your head down, tears dripping onto your thighs, but you were smiling. When you looked out the window, your tear-covered smile shined in the light of the moon.

“T-thank you… Thank you so much…”

It was almost like you were looking right at him, even though he knew you weren’t. You continued crying, oblivious to the noise of your door opening slowly, before he was finally there behind you. He kneeled down next to you, and with a shaky hand he pet the back of your head. You jumped, turning to finally look at him.

You recognised him, too. From the news.

“You’re… You’re Tomura Shigaraki…”

He nodded silently, looking away from you. He didn’t see your smile widen as you hugged him close, pressing yourself into him. His eyes widened and he could feel his heart racing, his face going red.

“W-what the-”

“My secret admirer is the feared villain, Tomura Shigaraki… Tomura Shigaraki saved me~”

“Don’t say that, I’m not a hero-”

“You’re my hero~”

He rolled his eyes, trying to peel you off of him. This is going far different than he expected your first meeting to go. You laughed gently, snuggling into him further, Tomura just patting your head. He could die right now and be happy, but he would rather die than admit that. You two sat like that for a moment, before you giggled.

“What is it..?”

“Tomura, why did you pick me?”

He was silent for a moment, “I don’t know… I saw you break up with him, and thought it was stupid. Why would you leave a hero like that…? I did my own research after that, and when I learned how you dealt with him, I admired you… You’re smart, and strong, and pretty…”

He saw your blush and smirked.

“And then I started watching you…”

He moved slowly, leaning more over you now, the blush on your face deepening.

“And I was hooked….”

That was it. Your whimper made him snap, moving quickly to grab onto you and kiss you. He’s been so good, he’s done far more than your ex ever has for you, he deserves a nice reward. He figured you might fight back, but… You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, grabbing the back of his head and tangling your fist in his hair, moaning into his mouth as you swallowed his tongue.

He kept kissing you, damn near ripping your pyjamas off of your body so he could finally, finally touch you like he’s wanted for so long. He saw the bruise on your arm, and growled.

“No one’ll ever hurt you again…” He said, before kissing you fervently.

You moaned into him again, gripping at his coat as he gripped at your sides, grabbing everything he could, touching every soft part of you he wanted. He was almost shaking by the time he was pulling at his pants, already hard and ready for you- Just for you. And when he looked down at you, you were breathing heavily, your clothes strewn about and still half-on, your face flushed a beautiful red…

You smiled softly at him, moving your hips closer to him.

“Tomura...”

He nodded without a word, pushing into you, and fucking into you like his life depended on it. You damnear screamed in his ear as you wrapped your arms and legs around him, praising him for helping you, thanking him for caring, and if he could talk right now he’d tell you everything…

You didn’t have to thank him, you didn’t have to ask for anything, not anymore… He’d do everything for you.

You were truly perfect…

Inside and out…

Tags: @slayersins @dabislittlemouse @dabislittlebeaniebaby @mothiopal @elias-fable @the-milk-anon @shockinglysubmissive @shadowsandshapes

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha smut #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki #tomura #shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki smut #shigaraki smut #x reader #stalker content #MINORS DO NOT INTERACT #AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT #i promise there's nothing terrible in this #the warnings are just more so to be safe than sorry

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sexysapphicshopowner · 7 months ago

Text

🤎 Context/AU (Alternate Universe): Big news for the dreamgirls!! Aftermath of 'Twenty Foreplay'

🤎 soft!wife!dreamgirl!sevika x wife!dreamgirl!reader

🤎 CW/TW: abuse, violence, death, murder, child sexual abuse, adult language, pregnancy, lesbians, pet names, fluff, angst, abortion attempt, sevika has a tragic backstory, eating disorder, drug use, mentions of alcoholism, sorry if I forgot any, not proofread/edited so excuse any mistakes

🤎 A/N: It's late, I know, life happens. I actually cut it short bc it was starting to get a lot heavier than I wanted and the flow was starting to get a bit sloppy. So have this.

🤎 Notes: Um, I cried while writing most of the flashback parts. I love the dreamgirls.

🤎 Word count: 12.4k

Aromatic wisps of rosemary and sage wafted through the bathroom, the scents intermingling with that of the light and warm, semi-bubbly milk bath your wife had drawn for you when she’d gotten home for the day. You let out a soft sigh, your head barely hanging over the edge as you sunk further into the calming water, trying to let as much stress seep out of you as possible.

Familiar and comforting hands found your shoulders, a kiss being planted on your temple as she spoke, voice barely a rumble over the neo-soul that was playing from the speaker on the sink counter, “How are you feeling, dream girl?”

“Better now that you’re in here,” you hummed as you looked up to her, pressing a kiss to her chin as she massaged your shoulders.

Her laugh was quiet as she ducked lower to press an upside-down kiss to your lips before kissing up the bridge of your nose. The playful little pecks turned reverent as her lips landed back at your forehead, peppering across the area as her hands moved.

Fingers splayed out over your neck and partially your collar as she pressed her thumbs behind your ears, rubbing in circles. You all but melted in her hands, letting your eyes slip closed once more as you enjoyed her touch and kiss.

“Have you started yet? I dropped last night.”

You shook your head, letting out a little sigh, “Not yet, though I wish it would hurry up. These body aches are killing me and if I keep gagging, I’m gonna throw up and that’s gonna make me cry.”

She cooed, thumbs now tracing down, applying a slight pressure as she dragged them along the line of your jaw, “My poor little mama...”

“Why poor me? You’re the one that’s actually on. I should’ve been the one drawing a bath for you when you got home.”

“Sure, but if you never drop then, you know what that means,” she hinted.

You rolled your eyes playfully, humming, “True... we’ll see. I’ll let you know what happens. We both know my cycle is still very off and weird.” “Right, right. Now about this gag-”

“No.”

“You didn’t even let me finish,” she pouted.

“I don’t have to. You were about to ask if it’s too bad for me to suck a lil’ dick. You’re so sick and twisted and completely un-slick, little nasty,” you shook your head, pushing her face playfully.

“Well, you’ve got me there. It was worth a try in my book,” she shrugged.

“Uh-huh. You disgust me.”

“Do I? Do I really,” she asked playfully, as you looked up, leaning your head back just a little further.

You beckoned her closer as you leaned your head back a little further, “Kiss, kiss.”

She happily obliges, leaning down to meet your lips as you stretch up just the tiniest bit. The kiss isn’t long, but it was enough to sate you until you could kiss her properly later. She mumbles against your lips as she pulls away, “I’m so in love with you and everything about you...”

Your breath caught as you looked up at her, finding that same indescribable flame that always burned within her silvery eyes. Somehow the color still hadn’t dulled against the harsh reality of life as a Zaunite. Even more, that loving look in them only seemed to be larger every time you caught her eye.

You were swooning.

It wasn’t until her lips pressed to your forehead that you were pulled out of your reverie, blinking up at her as you turned around in the tub to look up at her properly as you leaned onto your arms, folding them over the edge of the bathtub, “I love you more.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, beckoning her closer with the crook of a finger, “Uh-huh. C'mere. I’ll show you how much I love you.”

She all but fell back into your lips, sighing into your kiss as it consumed her, your nails raking over her scalp as your fingers slid into her hair, thumbs tracing her jaw just in front of her ears.

In a very uncharacteristic move, she pulled from the embrace before you could even deepen it, huffing, “You can’t kiss me like that, dreamy...”

“Why not?”

She shook her head to clear it, wiping her face, “Because then I’m gonna wanna get into the tub with you, then I’m gonna fuck you and I’m supposed to be focused on doing other things right now.”

“Such as?”

She just chuckled in response before planting a much more chaste kiss to your lips, following it with another to the tip of your nose, the final one touching your forehead as she stood, “What fun would it be if I just told you, mama? I’ll be back in a sec with some sparkling white grape. Just in case I did knock you up, which... not to toot my own dick, but I’m pretty certain I did.”

Your laugh was more of a splutter as you choked on your spit and air at the same time, “For Janna’s sake, Sevi, it’s ‘toot my own horn’. I can’t stand your nasty ass sometimes.”

“Then it’s a wonderful thing you’re in the tub right now, isn’t it?”

“Girl- just hurry up, I want cuddles when I get out of here.”

She blew you a final kiss from the doorway before disappearing into the rest of the house to do whatever it was she was hiding from you. As promised, she’d come back with the sparkling juice, to which you accepted gratefully with a little kiss before sinking back into your bath, lazily holding the champagne flute over the side of the tub as you sipped on the drink idly.

Sevika doesn’t like men.

All the men out there who’ve ever wanted to fuck her can thank her father for the aversion.

You see, when your childhood consists of being pimped out to strange men to pay your alcoholic father’s gambling debts, constantly getting into street fights, and then getting your ass handed to you once you get home- you don’t have much time to really discover yourself.

Maybe in a different universe- one where Sevika wasn’t born in Zaun... where her father wasn’t abusive... where she wasn’t sex trafficked by the very man that was meant to protect her... she might’ve been attracted to men.

But this wasn’t that universe.

Her fear of relationships with men quickly grew into an outright disgust of them.

And then it got worse.

For Sevika, it started with the vomiting.

For probably all the ladies living up Topside, the first sign would’ve been a missed period. Thanks to life in the Lanes, however, Sevika was pretty used to her period not coming at all sometimes. It never came with a baby before though.

She’d been dancing the line of unknown pregnancy scares since she was 11. Now she was 21, still under the thumb of her father, and even worse- pregnant.

It wasn’t long before you were wrapped in a fluffy robe, feet slid into your house slippers as Sev guided you into the kitchen with her hands over your eyes under the guise of ‘driving you’ to her secret little surprise.

You stumbled a bit and she took a little pause, “You okay?”

“I smell food.”

Her chuckle was hearty and you could almost hear the head shake that accompanied her words, “I’m sure you do. Almost there, dream girl.”

Her hands were removed from your eyes without warning and allowed your eyes to adjust as she leaned her face over your shoulder, hands coming down to their usual home base of your waist as you took in the ambient, candlelit dinner she’d put together for you guys, “Sev...”

She shook her head before you could continue, “Yes, I’m on my period and that’s your favorite time to spoil me, but I wanted to treat my wife.”

You poked your lip out as you turned your head to look at her, “Sev...”

She giggled, peppering the side of your face with kisses, “Don’t cry, mama... it’s just dinner. I can’t even cook like you.”

You sniffled, fanning your eyes, “Shut it, my emotions are just everywhere right now. It’s not about your cooking skills, even though we both know I’ve taught you well... It’s about the gesture, and you know it.”

She nodded, lips now at your shoulder, “I know... hope you love it.”

“Of course, I love it... I love you...” you mumbled, holding a hand against her cheek.

“Alright, alright, sit and eat,” she prompted, pulling your chair out with her foot. Before you could protest as she sat you down, she pressed several kisses to your face, “And I love you too. Never forget it.”

You had a stupid smile on your face throughout the entirety of dinner.

Emetophobia.

The fear of vomiting or seeing others being sick.

Sevika had experienced her father’s violent reactions to her throwing up before.

The first time was when she was 6.

It was a particularly bad winter in Zaun. The smog was thicker, the cold seemed to seep into the very core of the Lanes.

She’d been battling the sniffles and a nasty fever for days, all the while still being forced to ‘put herself to use’ by her father.

Then it got worse.

Then she began to throw up.

At first, she hid it well. She’d swallow it down when she couldn’t get out of his sight. When she could, she’d always go out to an alley, ducking and weaving through bodies of what the little girl only hoped was just drunkards and junkies who’d passed out on a bender rather than what a six-year-old Sevika knew in her heart were either already dead or close to it.

Up until this point, the extent of physical abuse coming directly from her father was a slap across the face or being picked up by the front of her shirt and shaken around.

Then she brought him breakfast and didn’t make it out of his room fast enough to go puke out back.

That was the catalyst for the abuses that would be-fall her for the next few decades of her life.

Throw up tastes disgusting.

It tastes even worse going back down after being licked up off your father’s grimy boots.

Even worse, the feeling of wanting to re-release those fluids again when you were forced to lick those same boots clean until they were no longer grimy.

Sevika trained herself to hold her throw up in after that.

Your music from the bathroom was moved to one of the counters in the kitchen, incense burning in the holder as you and Sevika cuddled up into each other, you perched up on her lap with the two of you picking from the same plate in between soft kisses and intimate looks.

It was just you and your wife, enjoying the presence and company of one another in the midst of the meal she’d prepared.

You leaned back against her chest, letting out a happy sigh, “You know... I’m so proud of you for this.”

“Yeah,” she asked softly. The softness of her voice, the genuine question in that one word was so cute. You turned in her lap, sitting sideways atop her, cupping her cheek in a hand as you smiled warmly, pressing a kiss to the bridge of her nose.

You kept your voice at the same level of hers as you responded, “Of course, I’m proud, baby. You pan fried the rice properly and everything. I’m so very proud to see you picking up cooking a little more.”

Your heart broke a little at the tears that glossed over her silver orbs as she looked up at you, “Really? You mean it?”

“Yes, baby, I mean it. What’s wrong,” you cooed, bringing your other hand to her cheek to stroke both of them with your thumbs, “Talk to me, baby.”

She shrugged, looking away, “I dunno... I just... I feel like I’ve been struggling to eat lately. Like I’ve been having to force myself to eat so I just... I wasn’t sure if I was in the right headspace to be cooking tonight, but I wanted to treat you, you know?”

“Sev...” you began.

“Don’t... it’s okay, doll. I’ll-”

“Sevika,” you stopped her, keeping her face turned to yours as you moved again, this time to straddle her, “Will you look at me? Please?”

She shook her head in your gentle grip, tears beginning to well, threatening to spill over as she fought hard to blink them back, “I can’t...”

“And why not?”

“I don’t want to see you disappointed in me...” she whispered, voice barely the ghost of a whisper. It was the smallest you’d heard her voice in a while. The last time was... you softened, further, bringing your voice to a warmer tone.

“I’m not disappointed in you, baby. And I never could be, especially not for something like that. I’m actually proud of you. Very proud that instead of shutting down, you’re talking about it. I know how hard that is for you, especially when it comes to your eating. So with that being said, will you please look at me?”

Watery eyes met yours as she nibbled the inside of her cheek, whispering, “Promise?”

“Of course, baby. I promise, I’m not disappointed.”

She took a shuddery, breath, closing her eyes as she leaned her forehead against your chest, “I love you...”

You pressed a kiss into her hair, rubbing her back, “I love you too, baby. You wanna try and eat a little something more for me? Or do you just wanna talk? What did you eat today?”

“Um.... I had a few bites of the lunch you made me, but then I.... let Ran eat the rest... I’m sorry...”

“Baby, you don’t have to keep apologizing. Can you at least drink some water and eat a little something? Just a couple of bites?” She whined and you let out a little sigh, running your fingers through her hair, “Have you smoked yet?”

“Mhm.”

“Didn’t help?”

“No.”

“Okay... You’ll try again later?”

“Sure.”

“If you can’t that’s fine, but you gotta promise me you’ll try and eat well tomorrow, okay?”

“I promise...”

A plaintive silence fell over the two of you. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just... somber. You didn’t comment when she began to pick a few bites off the plate again, simply smiling that she was getting some form of food in her, even if it wasn’t a lot.

At some point, Sevika had stopped eating, hands gripping at your waist, hips and thighs as she pressed kisses along the line of your neck and shoulder. Her hands strayed to your stomach as she mumbled, “Hey, mama?”

“Yes, my love?”

She chuckled as you stuffed your face with food, wiping some from your cheek, “What if I really did knock you up in one try?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. I mean, how many times did you nut in me? And we were both ovulating around that time too. It was like perfectly timed for us to actually end up with a baby.”

She didn’t say anything else for a few moments, and you went right back to eating before she rested her chin on your shoulder, tracing your side with her mechanic hand, “You make me want a family...”

“Yeah?”

She nodded, “Yeah... even with life down here... the work that I do... you make me wanna have something to leave behind... a little family that’s like... a legacy of our love. Like, yes, I wanna be a mother and give our kids the things that I never had, but I also want people to see our kids and know that those are our kids. Like... they know that our kids have two loving moms that are actively in love.”

You let out a little giggle, turning to the side in her lap to wrap your arms around her neck, pressing a kiss to her cheek as you held her other one, stroking your thumb over her cheekbone, “You’re so cute... I love you, and I would love to have your babies, and I know what you’re trying to say, I promise.”

She relaxed, letting out a sigh of relief as she leaned into your hand on her face, “Thank Janna, I thought I was just rambling stupidly.”

You shook your head, pressing more kisses to her face and lips, “No, I understood you perfectly.”

“Have I told you how much I love you today?”

You giggled, nodding, “Yeah, a little bit. You always remind me that I’m loved... it’s why I married you.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Baby, you told me you loved me within our first four dates. It was so cute because you were still learning to navigate love and healthy relationships... we both were, and still are, but here I had the big, scary lady of Zaun and she was looking at me like a puppy and telling me that she thought she was falling in love with me. I think that was the moment when I truly felt like I had found my person in you. And well... the rest is really history. By the time you asked me to marry you, I couldn’t say anything but yes.”

She had idly reached for her wedding band that she always wore on a chain around her neck, fiddling with it as she looked up at you in her lap, “You never once like... entertained saying no? Or maybe waiting a little longer?”

“Never. I knew when I met you that I had to snatch you up and it was just my luck that you seemed to have the same thought process when it came to me. I love you. And that’s not changing. So yes, I mean it when I say I wanna have your children, or that I love you more than anything, or that I’d do anything you asked of me because you’re... you’re everything to me, Sev... and I know that when it comes to us talking about kids it’s hard for you... but you’ve given me so much and I wanna give you the same thing in return. If given the chance, I wouldn’t change a thing about our relationship... well...”

Her eyes snapped up to you from her ring as worry laced through her features, “Well?”

You snickered, placing a gentle kiss to the bridge of her nose, “If I could go back, I would make sure I’d asked you to marry me before you could ask me.”

“You’re so,” she rolled her eyes, unable to hide her smile as you shut her up with another little kiss. She pulled you further into her lap with a happy little sigh, “I love you, dream girl.”

You leaned into her, resting your head on her shoulder as you wrapped an arm around her, your other hand coming up to her chest, fingernail tracing along her collarbone, “I love you too.”

“Done eating?”

You nodded, patting your stomach, “May or may not be a baby-baby in here, but there’s definitely a food baby in here.”

The way she perked up almost like a little kid was too cute as she asked, “I did good?”

The sated and full sigh you let out was all the answer she really needed, but you furthered it as you spoke, “Fuck yes...”

She rubbed your back with one hand, her other one grabbing hold of your hand to kiss each of your fingertips, “You’re so cute. It wasn’t even all that, mama.”

“Uh-huh, it was gourmet. My compliments to the chef.”

She raised a brow, voice full of ulterior motives and that all-too-familiar lilt as she muttered, “If you weren’t clearly about to fall asleep, I would ask for some better compliments, you know.”

You quirked a brow sleepily, looking up at her through low and hooded eyes, “Huh?”

“Alright, c’mon. To bed with you,” she prodded, adjusting her hold on you to pick you up with your legs wrapped around her waist.

You instinctively looped your arms around her neck, pressing a few kisses to it as you hummed, “I love you.”

“So I’ve noticed. I love you too.”

“I love you.”

She chuckled, “I love you too, baby.”

“I love you.”

She used her foot to push open the door to your shared bedroom, nodding as she used her foot to close the door once more, “Uh-huh, I love you too, dreamy. What’s up?”

You shrugged as she sat down on the edge of the bed with you in her lap again, “Just feel like I haven’t said it enough today, you were at work all day, baby. Gotta reach our quota.”

“We have a quota?”

“Mhm,” you nodded against her shoulder, eyes closed as you planted lazy kisses against whatever skin was closest to you.

Her breath hitched in her throat and she assumed a firmer grip on your hip as she hummed, “And what exactly would that number be?”

“We say ‘I love you’ at least 76 times a day. And we kiss at least 280 times.”

She chuckled, hand stroking along your hip and thigh as she nodded, “And where did you get these numbers from? Your ass?”

“I’ve always counted.”

That shut her up before she asked her next question a few moments later, “Are these exact numbers?”

“An average. I did say ‘at least’.”

“Huh.... you’re gay.”

“Okay, but you married me so what does that say about you?”

“That I did.” She turned to press a kiss to your forehead, just below your hairline before resting her head against yours, “I love you, dream girl.”

You melted in her arms, nuzzling into the crook of her neck as you tightened your hold around her waist, “I love you...”

“I love you,” she called again with a soft lilt in her tone as her thumb traced circles at the side of your hip.

A heavy blush was creeping up from your chest, your skin growing warm as you let out a shaky breath, “I love you...”

“You okay?”

“Uh-huh...”

“Words, mama.” You huffed and she shook her head, “No, ma’am. Talk to me. You goin’ to sleep on me?”

“No.”

“No?”

You shook your head against her, “Mh-mh.”

She just chuckled, rubbing your back with one hand as she cradled the back of your head with the other, pressing kisses into your hair, “Whatever you say, mama.”

Sevika’s pregnancy scares were probably a lot more than she realized, but with little actual knowledge of her body, and the compounding factor of probably the world’s most irregular cycle, she spent the majority of her tween, teen, and young adult years none the wiser to any of the times where her body was seemingly contemplating the creation of a child.

Until it started.

At first, it was just a random nausea spell here and there.

Then the nausea grew constant, the smallest smells setting her off with this horrible gagging.

And then she threw up.

All she could think of was what she was supposed to do when her father found out. No, no... he couldn’t find out.

Flashbacks of that day when she was 6 have been haunting her since the first day of nausea. The intensity all but doubled when she woke up running for the toilet.

Terrified didn’t even begin to cover the amalgamation of emotions Sevika was feeling when she realized what was going on with her.

She thrust herself into ‘working’. Unsure of how far along she was and unable to actually find out, she decided to swallow down her daily morning sickness whenever it cropped up if she could, and when she couldn’t, she was straight to the nearest toilet.

That didn’t stop her father from finding out.

Sevika was sat on the bathroom floor, groaning under her breath after being unable to force herself to swallow her vomit back down. She was too weak and out of it to scramble and get herself together.

If it wasn’t bad enough that she’d thrown up- didn't even get the chance to flush the toilet yet- her lack of reaction to his presence only further incensed the already drunk and irate man that called himself her father.

It was a shitshow.

Sevika was hemmed up by the collar of her shirt, his fist shaking as he barked in her face, questioning if this was why she’d been ‘underperforming’ lately. Too stunned to speak and reeling from the sudden yanking up from the floor, she sputtered, dizzy with a pounding headache as she tried to form a response.

The more she floundered to actually engage with him, the more angry and downright belligerent he became.

As always, he didn’t see his daughter, shaking under his grip of her collar.

No, he saw the extra mouth he’d been having to feed.

He saw the reason his wife was dead.

He saw red.

By the time Sevika found her words to even begin attempting to answer his barrage of questions and demands, his fist was already connecting with her face, his grip on her shirt the only thing saving her from ending up sprawled on the bathroom floor.

It was going to be a beating for the books.

You didn’t even realize it when she’d laid you down in the bed on the pillows, tucking you in, until she was sliding into bed next to you, wrapping her arms around you from behind with a kiss to the back of your shoulder, “Hm?”

She shook her head, reaching a hand into your robe to hold one of your breasts as another kiss was planted to the side of your neck, “Go to sleep, mama. I just had to go get out of my work clothes.”

You let out a little groan, turning in her arms to nestle into her, your face tucked under her chin as you mumbled, “Hmmm... g’night.... love you...”

With a little chuckle she pressed kisses into your hair, rubbing your lower back as she whispered against you, “Good night, my love. Sleep well.”

You didn’t sleep very well at all.

Along with the aches and random pains in weird places in your body- a tugging in your lower abdomen that also had a random stabbing along with it, back pain, an almost constant headache, and just a general discomfort and ache in your body- you also had this constant metal taste that was like having a mouthful of rusty change in your mouth at all times.

You were constantly waking up throughout the night from the discomfort, the violent urge to brush your teeth to purge your mouth of the vile metallic tang plaguing you. This, compounded with your incessant gagging, had you growing nauseous with the mere thought of your toothbrush starting to make you want to dry-heave.

You were presently standing over the sink, tears in your eyes as you tried to prepare yourself to gargle some mouthwash after having thrown up for about the fifth time since you woke up in the middle of the night.

Sevika, ever the stony sleeper, had no idea until she rolled over, finding your cold spot in the bed next to her. She groaned, calling out in a sleep-filled voice, “Baby, what’re you doin’? Come back so we can cuddle...”

You huffed, gripping onto the counter of the bathroom sink, fighting the urge to dry-heave again, “I’ll be back in a second....”

You could hear her trudging footsteps coming closer to the bathroom until she was coming up behind you, rubbing your back and pulling hair out of your face, concern and sleep both written on her features, “What’s wrong, baby?”

“I just.... I’m fine, I’ll be fine,” you shook your head, pushing her hand away before grabbing the capful of mouthwash.

“You can’t lie to me, dream girl. You’re crying, you’re pale... you look like shit and you’re supposed to be asleep right now. Talk to me.”

“I’m in pain, gagging now has nausea with it, I just threw up, so now I gotta wash that out of my mouth, but that’s still not going to get rid of this fucking taste in my mouth and I just-”

“Hey,” she moved to stand right in front of you, hands on your arms as she rubbed them to try and calm you back down, “Avalanche, you’re spiraling, dreamy. Take a deep breath with me and we’ll go sit down and talk, okay?”

You nodded as you looked up at her, taking a shaky but somewhat deep breath along with her as she nodded along, continuing to rub your arms with her thumbs tracing circles.

You let out a hiccup when you went to exhale and the second the tears started to brew again, she shook her head, “No, no, eyes on me... You’re safe... you’re okay, I promise. I’m here. You are okay, you’re doing so well, my love. Let’s try again, okay? Deep breaths.”

It took a few more tries before you finally relaxed in her hold, wrapping your arms around her. She brought one hand up to play in your hair, the pads of her fingers rubbing your scalp as her claws on her mech hand trailed lightly up and down your back.

She ended up taking you to the kitchen, sitting you down as she made you a glass of water with two and a half ice cubes- just the way you liked it after an episode like that, holding your free hand and kissing your knuckles and fingertips as you drank with your other hand.

When you sat the glass down, she stepped between your legs, still stroking her thumb over the back of your knuckles, “Whenever you’re ready, we’ll talk. If you don’t wanna talk, we can go back to sleep. If you want a distraction, we can watch something, or I could read you something. Just let me know, okay?”

You nodded, reaching up with your other arm for her to come closer. She pressed a kiss to your cheek before leaning into the embrace, wrapping you up in her arms. The two of you remained that way for a few quiet moments until you looked up at her with a sniffle, your chin on her chest, “Sev?”

“Yes, dreamy?”

“Can you read to me in bed?”

“Absolutely, baby. Do you wanna stay with me while I grab a book or go get comfy?” You held onto her tighter and she nodded, stroking your hair, “Alright, I got you.” She moved so that she could give you a piggyback while she grabbed a book. She ran her finger over the titles, moving on to the next one when you let out a little ‘mh-mh’ sound at each one until giving a nod when she got to a book you wanted to hear.

Once you were both back in bed, Sevika sat up against the headboard with you lying on your stomach between her legs curled up into her chest, she started reading the book, her voice still rather raspy from sleep. She held the book in one hand, her other one up at your face, stroking your cheek with the back of her fingers and only moving to flip the page.

Eventually, you closed your eyes, enjoying the vibrations of her voice in her chest beneath your head and the feel of her fingers on your face. Unconsciously, you took hold of her hand, fiddling with her fingers. She paused in her reading to check in, “You okay?”

“My mouth feels empty,” you lamented softly, the traces of whining laced in your voice.

She kissed your temple, “You’ve got my fingers, mama. Do you want me to keep reading?”

Sevika was no stranger to your occasional bouts like this. You hadn’t had a panic attack like that in a while, but usually when you did, you came out of them feeling very subby, not saying much, and your oral fixation would kick up, usually leading you to say things like ‘my mouth feels empty’.

You nodded in response to her question as you closed your eyes again, softly sucking and gnawing on her index finger. She smiled as your breathing evened out, setting the book aside as she pulled the covers over you both, allowing you to keep her finger before she picked the book back up.

A little groan left you as you took one more finger into your mouth, shifting atop her with your right arm wrapped around her. She shushed you softly, pressing a kiss to your hair, “I’m right here, dream girl... I’ll never let you go... promise...”

First, he punched.

Blow after blow into her face.

To this day, Sevika still has the slightest taste of blood that crops up in her mouth for no apparent reason from time to time.

It was clear that he was just making himself angrier with each hit, the strikes growing more violent and frenzied the more he spoke, barking at her about bringing another unwanted mouth into the household, about how she was still going to have to work. How could she be so foolish as to allow something like this? Half of his yelling barely made any sense but one thing was clear- he was saying that she’d gotten pregnant on purpose, trying to get out of pulling her weight around here.

His grip started to shake on her collar until he’d thrown her to the floor, too lazy to bend over and keep using his hands, so here came the infamous worker’s boots, smashing into her stomach and chest with seemingly reckless abandon- yet somehow still managing a concentration of kicks to her stomach. Sevika curled in on herself slightly, instinctively going to guard her stomach which left her chest open.

There was a sick crunch with each kick there, blood bubbling up out of her mouth as her body was wracked with coughs, the blood spattering across the floor with each one. Her father stopped for a few moments, leaning against the wall to catch his breath as he wheezed.

"You... are fuckin'.... pathetic..." he huffed, turning back around to prod her face with his foot.

He spat down at her as she lay there, voice gruff as he all but growled, “Get the fuck up.”

Sevika was already weak when he came in, having been throwing up essentially all morning before he'd come in to find her when he got home. It hurt to even breathe, ribs threatening to puncture her lungs with every shallow breath she managed, let alone for her to actually get up off the floor.

She didn’t move.

He gave her a shove with his foot, pushing her onto her back as his voice got louder, “Did you not hear me, bitch? Get the fuck up!”

Tears brewed at the back of her eyes. She always says the back because she learned early on not to cry. He hated that almost more than he hated her.

With a great amount of effort, she rolled onto her side, then her stomach before bracing her hands against the floor to push herself up, low grunts and huffs escaping her the whole way.

She barely got a few inches off the floor before he used his foot once again to kick her, knocking her back down, “Get up.”

It was getting harder to hold those tears.

She wasn’t foolish enough to hope that actually ending up pregnant would change things. She never hoped for anything. But some subconscious part of her did. While she had no plans on keeping the child, not that her father would let her anyway, something deep within her secretly wanted to.

Her arms were wobbly, weak as she started to push up again. Each time she started to get up as he was demanding, he’d kick up under her, right into her stomach.

She knew what he was doing.

She didn’t want to lose the baby.

Not like this.

But she couldn’t do anything.

For years after his death, she berated herself for not killing him sooner.

After all if she had...

To say you had a disgusting cocktail of things seemingly going wrong with you would’ve been an understatement.

You were locked in an almost unending cycle of sorts. First, you’d feel so nauseous it was almost like you were seasick. Then you’d throw up, which meant you had to brush your teeth after, lest the unceasing metallic taste be joined by vomit, which meant more gagging and possible throwing up. Then to make you feel even worse, now your gums were bleeding.

And there was the pains.

Sevika could barely keep up, but she was doing her best. She went into work less often, explaining the situation to Silco. When she did go in, he kept her for shorter hours, having her back home to you before afternoon.

You guys were still awaiting your now questionably late period when you called from the bathroom one morning, “Baby?”

“Yes, mama?”

“Can you bring me a liner from the closet?”

“You dropped?”

“I think?”

She entered the room with a liner in one hand and fresh panties in the other, “You think?”

“It’s never been this light before. It’s not spotting, but it’s not my usual first day either,” you explained, letting her see the red and brown that now stained the panties you were wearing initially before you tossed them across the bathroom and into the hamper, taking the fresh ones and the liner from her with a soft ‘thank you’ as you changed.

She leaned against the sink, clearly studying you, trying to rack her brain for any sort of explanation.

“This just started?”

“Yeah?”

“Hm.”

“What are you thinking about over there? I’m not dying, am I?”

She looked at you like she could kill you before whatever this was did, “Don’t talk like that. I’m just trying to make sense of this. Perhaps we should visit your mom...”

The last line was muttered more to herself, but you responded all the same. Your mother was a doctor. More than that, she was a pretty damn good one, and she specialized in childbirth and care. She’d helped numerous women through what could’ve otherwise been fatal pregnancies, not to mention you come from a very... fertile line of women.

“Would that make you feel better if I did?”

She nodded immediately, “Yes, please. If anyone will know what’s going on with you, it’s definitely her.”

“You know that’s a six-day trip, right?”

“Don’t care. I’ll work something out with Silco if need be, but I need to know what’s going on with my girl. Start packing when you get out of here, I’ll be back in 45, okay?”

You huffed, grumbling to yourself, “Watch it just be somethin’ stupid."

“Nothing’s stupid when it comes to you, dream girl. Don’t make me fuck a reminder into you when I get back.”

“You’re leavin’ without my kisses? Do y’even love me anymore,” you wailed dramatically.

You could almost sense her playful eye-roll as you heard her steps clunking back toward your shared bedroom. She bent down to meet you as you placed the liner into your new panties, pressing two kisses to your lips, “Happy now?”

“No,” you pouted, your bottom lip poked out as you looked up at her sadly.

She stooped down to your level, face softening, “What’s wrong, my love?”

“You only gave me two kisses....” you whined, dead serious.

Her face fell and she pushed your knee, “Don’t scare me like that, I thought something was really wrong, dreamy. Mmmmwah, better?”

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you as she planted a very audible kiss on your lips, nodding, “Yes, thank you. And insufficient kisses it very much serious business.”

“Yeah, when it’s you depriving me, not the other way around. Hurry and get ready, okay? The sooner we figure out what’s going on with you, the better.”

“I know, I know. I’ll be fine. Go talk your way into going with me,” you waved her on, getting up from the toilet as you flushed with one hand, turning the sink on with the other to wash your hands.

She got maybe three steps away from the door before she was back in the bathroom, tugging your face to hers for a searing- almost teasing- kiss as she muttered before pulling away, “I love you, lock the doors and windows, I’ll be back soon, okay?”

Despite already missing her presence with her standing right in front of you, you managed a smile, pecking her lips once more, “Hurry, Sevi. The longer it takes you to leave, the longer I have to be here by myself.”

“Say it back first,” she mumbled against your lips, the two of you still trading kisses back and forth.

You pressed a lengthier kiss to her lips, looking up at her with a whisper, “I love you...”

She tilted her head to rest her forehead against yours, closing her eyes, “I’ll be back, okay?”

“Sev-”

“I’m fine. I’ll be back.”

She quickly suppressed the brewing tears, heading to go ask Silco for some time off to make the trip.

Sevika spent that night on the bathroom floor, bloodied and bruised, still coughing up blood periodically as she cradled her stomach, praying to whoever was out there that she didn’t die on that floor.

She didn’t die.

Even more, neither did her baby.

Sevika wasn’t excited.

She wasn’t happy to be bringing this life into the world.

Sevika was petrified about the mere idea of it all.

If she kept the baby, there was the chance her father would kill the baby, or worse, the baby would end up being abused just as she was. She couldn’t have that happen.

But did she truly want to give it away?

If the baby was lucky, it would end up being sent topside to Piltover. It’d be safe there as much as she hated to think about her child ending up being a topsider.

But more likely than not, the kid would end up just in the system. Sent off from home to home around the Lanes. Or even worse, the kid could end up being one of the many orphans on the street.

Sevika didn’t know what she wanted. Or what she would do.

To make matters worse, her father acted as if she weren’t even pregnant in the first place.

She was still working, now having to do even more ‘work’ to make up for the “lackluster performance” from the week she first found out she was pregnant. She was also working at home again, something she hadn’t done much since she’d become an adult.

It took months for her to begin showing, and by the time she had, it was almost as if her father intended for her to keep the baby. The physical abuse was now reduced to the occasional slap or hair snatch here and there, and though the verbal and emotional abuse intensified in its place, he’d begun seemingly making room for the new addition.

He was by no means happy about the prospect of his daughter having a child. But the way he saw it, that was another worker to bring money in to fund his drinking, gambling, and other vices.

The way Sevika saw it? She'd rather die than let her child go through the same things she did. Whether this was something she wanted or not, she knew that if she had to have this child, she’d protect it with her life.

It’s nowhere near the first time you’ve had to make this trip to see your mom. 6 days there, 6 days back.

The majority of your journey is spent with your symptoms playing a twisted game of roulette, alternating between which ones will be your biggest issue that day.

You’re a constant mess of tears, throwing up, gagging, whining, and for the life of you, you cannot stop peeing, only to end up releasing barely a trickle if even a few drops.

You’re tired.

Sevika is also tired.

Your wife wasn’t much of a caregiver when the two of you met. She wasn’t the worst, but it was clear that she was still very much learning. By now she's got it pretty much mastered.

She’s been holding you through everything, offering up massages, cuddles, and her fingers whenever you’re starting to get too overwhelmed by all the different compounding symptoms of what’s looking more and more like a pregnancy.

That’s when the nosebleeds started.

You’ve never had a nosebleed before. Aside from getting your nose broken that one time, you’d only ever dealt with Sevika’s nosebleeds that she gets during the winter from her nostrils drying out. But you? Never had it happen.

However, you knew what it meant.

It ran in the family. Bloody noses and sensitive- sometimes bleeding- gums were some of the earliest pregnancy symptoms within your family. If you didn’t know based on your other symptoms, all other weird yet slightly common symptoms of pregnancy, you definitely knew now.

You were both in your hotel room, the last stop before the final half-day stretch that would get you to your mother’s house, your back to her front as she trailed her fingers over your stomach, muttering affirmations and praises under her breath at how good you’d been holding up when you felt what you thought was your nose running.

You reached up to swipe at your nose with a sniff, pulling your sleeve away to find red now smeared across it, “Oh no...”

She sat up with you, eyes going wide, “Baby?”

You held your nose, pinching the bottom of your nostrils as you cupped your other hand under your chin, holding your head forward while running to the bathroom.

It’s not an overwhelming amount of blood. You’ve seen Sevika come home with much worse from particularly bloody brawls at The Last Drop for sure. But to your wife? You may as well be dying.

Sev is right on your heels, a face towel in her hands already being run under some warm tap water as she pulls you in front of her, taking hold of your chin with her mech hand and assessing the situation as she cleans your face with the towel in her other one.

“This isn’t normal.... d’you think we can leave tonight? Get a jump on some answers? I’m worried about you.”

“Baby, it’s just a nosebleed. I won’t bleed out by morning. It’s not even bleeding anymore.”

She shakes her head, turning your face side-to-side face for signs of any bruising or other things that may be outwardly wrong with you. When she finds none, she starts to gently prod at your nose with a finger, pushing against the bridge and around, “You don’t get it, dreamy. You don’t get nosebleeds. I get those like an orphan gets the cold and flu. Not you... I don’t know a single person in the Lanes who’s just never had a nosebleed like you... I’m scared.”

While you were now very certain about being pregnant, you wanted to wait to tell her, so you simply took hold of her arms- standard panic protocol between the two of you- as you spoke gently, “Baby, there’s a lot of things going on with me that just aren’t normal for me, but that’s why we’re on this trip. We’ll get answers in the morning, okay? Breathe for me, deep breaths.”

Sevika’s barrage of questions and worries fizzle out on her tongue as she locks in with you, mumbling a small, “Avalanche,” as she takes a deep breath in time with your own.

“There we go, my love. What can I do for you to make you feel a bit better right now? If you wanna get back on the road, we can. Or we can go cuddle and I’ll braid your hair. Or we can watch our show. Whenever you’re ready, just let me know, okay?”

She closed her eyes as she took a final breath, opening them once she blew it back out, “Can you braid my hair and we watch our show?”

“Of course, baby. Come on, relax time. If my nose bleeds again tonight, we’ll get up and head on immediately.”

The two of you ended up back in bed, Sevika’s head in your lap as you gave her a few braids to pull back into two little pigtails in place of her usual half pony, you guys’ show playing in the background of her giving you updates on the things she’s gotta do for Silco when you two return back home.

“And then he was literally all whiny talking about how he needs me to come in at some point when we get back so I can go head up the factory and take stock.”

You snickered, pulling a hair tie around her first little pigtail, “We need to get this man a calculator class or something. Oh, remind me it’s time for a trim when we get home, your undercut is practically long enough for me to braid it too.”

She rolled her eyes, rolling over in your lap to face you so you could do the other side of her hair, “Oh hush, it’s not that long.”

“Nah, I’m just being extra.”

“I love you...”

“I love you too.”

She squeezed her eyes closed, gritting her teeth, “I love you...”

You noticed the tense in her jaw, voice softening, “I love you more, baby.”

“Avalanche,” she said meekly, fist gripping your shirt.

You set your comb aside, pulling her up and into your arms as you wrapped your legs around her, allowing her to bury her face in your chest. Slowly rocking side to side, you stroked her hair with one hand, holding her tightly with your other arm as you pressed kisses to her temple and along her hairline, “I got you, Vika.... I’ll never let you go.... never leave... You’re safe... I love you... I’m always going to love you... nothing you do will change that... We’ve been married for so long now... We’re planning babies... We’re still gonna get our homestead... And you can have your animals... I’ll have my fruits and veggies... Me ‘n you, baby...”

You kept whispering little reassurances, reminding her about you guys’ life plan, the things the two of you have already accomplished together, the ones still to come, all while rocking her and playing in her hair. She was holding onto you for dear life. You’d been waiting for it to hit her again, knowing what time of year it was.

When her breathing evened out and her grip on you relaxed just the tiniest bit, you pulled back slightly, cleaning the crust from her eyes with your shirt before pulling the article off, tossing it to the floor. You finished her cute little pigtails while she slept, pausing to press a kiss to her nose every time she started to stir a little bit.

You watched a few more episodes of you guys’ show, making sure to put it back to where it was when she fell asleep before you relaxed as well, pulling the covers up over the two of you.

With a final kiss to her nose, this one earning a soft smile in her sleep, you leaned your head against hers before following her to sleep, mumbling, “Sweet dreams, my love... You’re gonna be a great mother...”

Pregnancy was... well...

Sevika wasn’t sure how to describe her pregnancy. She was in such a weird place after the initial day of her father finding out that she wasn’t sure what to make of anything.

One moment, he was “caring” for her- which really just meant not beating the shit out of her and pimping her out- and the next he was either acting like she didn’t exist or, again, human punching bag.

As far as symptoms, her vomiting didn’t last very long, took her maybe two weeks after that day for her to get a handle on forcing her morning sickness back down no matter what.

She really didn’t get the chance to think about it much. Sure, she had aches and pains. Sure, she had cravings. Sure, she was in and out of bathrooms like it was nobody’s business. But, those were all just minor- trivial things that ranged from annoying to slightly inconvenient at times.

The hard part was delivery.

Sevika delivered her daughter herself.

Alone, in a back alley, deep in the very heart of Zaun.

Giving birth hurt more than anything she’d ever felt before and anything she’d ever feel after.

Sevika didn’t know much about her body.

Besides the hateful things spewed about it from her father, the lustful words from her “clients”, and the few things she’d managed to sneak and read back when she was younger, she actually didn’t know much about how her body worked, let alone pregnancy.

But something seemed to come over her.

It was as if suddenly she knew everything she needed to have her baby safely.

Yes, she was giving birth in a dirty alleyway- the whole of Zaun was dirty, it was unavoidable- but even through the pain she was... calm.

She wasn’t worried about someone finding her and interfering. She wasn’t worried about her father.

All she cared about was making sure her baby made it out into this world.

And she did it.

With nothing but a lighter, a shoelace, a pocketknife, and some stolen whiskey, she delivered her baby.

A girl.

She always wanted to have a daughter when she was little.

She told herself that she’d have a girl so she could give her all the love and care that her father never showed her.

She named her Mieko.

Sevika didn’t know who the father was before now.

And even though Mieko was but a newborn, she knew.

This baby belonged to her father.

The next morning was a rush.

Sev wanted to get to your mom’s as soon as possible. She didn’t say anything about last night aside from asking if your nose had bled any more after she fell asleep, and you didn’t mention it either.

But the cloud still hung.

You noticed her fiddling with the two shell casings that hung from the same chain as her wedding ring. Every so often her hand would stray up to her neckline, fingers practically searching for the items that sat just beneath the fabric of her shirt. Each time you just gave her mech hand a little squeeze, kissing the back of it just the same as you would her flesh hand.

She was thankful you didn’t pry. You never did, actually. Sure, you knew what the casings held within them, and even more you knew exactly what it meant when she started to play with them, but you didn’t bother her about it. You gave her breath and space to grieve in her own way, never pushing for answers, never making her feel weak for showing her sadness. It was one of the many reasons she loved you so much.

Naturally, the somber mood slowly started to lift the closer the two of you got to your mother’s place of residence. You knew Sev was only mostly trying to distract herself, but you also knew how much she and your mother adored one another.

Presently, she was still fiddling with that chain of hers, rubbing the casings between her fingers as she spoke, “D’you think she’ll try and keep us here if it turns out we’re just having a baby?”

“As if you’d be opposed. The way you two act, people would swear I was the one who married in.”

She chuckled, sticking her tongue out at you, “Don’t be mad at me because moms prefers me. I’m just that guy.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully mushing her in the face, “Literally die. Don’t ever say some stupid shit like that again.”

“Or what?”

“No booty.”

“What?!” She cried incredulously, immediately on her knees, “C’mon, mama, you know I was just playing. ‘M sorry...” she trailed, looking up at you with puppy eyes.

You couldn’t help the snicker that escaped you as you pulled her up by her chin, being sure to press your lips to hers when she got close enough before she was once again standing over you, “You gotta be nice to me, okay? I’m 65 percent sure mom wrote me out of her will to put you in it.”

She rolled her eyes playfully before leaning down to kiss you once more, “Oh, please, even if she did you already know I’d just give it all to you anyway.”

“True, true.”

“You ready?”

“Yeah, are you?”

“Hell yeah. If you end up not being pregnant we’ll just try again when we get home... so long as you’re not dying or something.”

“What if I was?”

“Don’t make me beat your ass, dreamy.”

You gasped dramatically, “You tryna eat my ass?!”

“I most certainly would hope not.”

The two of you immediately forgot about the little argument that was about to start as you both raced to get to your mom first from where she stood on her porch.

“Mommy,” you exclaimed as you launched yourself into her arms.

She let out a dramatized grunt as she wrapped you up in her embrace, squeezing you tightly, “I wish you’d have told me you were coming before I felt you. Would’ve made your favorites.”

“Sorry, it was kind of an emergency.”

Sevika cut in, tugging you out of the way, “Yeah, kinda like you hogging moms right now.”

Your mother snickered, squeezing Sev just the same, “You two need to be nice and stop fighting over me all the time. You both know that I love you equally.”

“But Sev’s not even-”

“What did I just say, gummy?”

You huffed, folding your arms as you grumbled under your breath, “I can’t stand either of you.”

When the two finally released each other, your mother turned her attention back to you, raising a brow, “Sevi, baby, can you do me a favor?”

“Anything, moms.”

“Go to the garden and gather the vegetables I’ll need for stir fry, please. I’ll be in the kitchen after I finish with this one,” she requested, eyes never leaving you as she seemed to be scrutinizing you. Sev left with a kiss to your cheek and another to your mom’s temple before she practically skipped away into the garden like the overgrown kid she really was.

“Do you have something you wanna tell me?”

“What do you mean, ma?”

“You’re choosing that card? Step into my office, gummy.”

You bit your lip as you followed after her into her home office, fiddling with the hem of your hoodie, “I swear to you, I don’t think I’ve got anything worse than a cold-”

“Sit down,” she instructs, not looking to play these games with you. You shut up immediately, sitting back as she takes your vitals, “Last period?”

“9 weeks ago.”

“6 weeks late, huh?”

“I know what you’re thinking and-”

“Did you know I’ve been dreaming about fish for a month now? Tiny little fish swimming around with tadpoles.”

You looked up at her as she handed you a cup, “Seriously, ma? I’m literally your only gay child.”

She raised a brow, “What does that have to do with me? Piss. I’m testing everyone, it hasn’t just been you.”

“So you tested Ky?”

“Sure did.”

You rolled your eyes the moment your back was turned, a slipper promptly smacking you in the back of the head, “Ow! I didn’t even say anything.”

“You rolled your eyes and you were grumbling in your head about me making your brother take a pregnancy test. Obviously, I tested his wife, genius.”

You smacked, rubbing the back of your head, “I didn’t even-” she raised her other slipper and you promptly shut your mouth before grabbing her slipper from earlier, handing it back to her. “I started getting the nosebleeds,” you mumbled softly.

She looked up from her clipboard, voice and eyes softer than before, “Dear, why you know-”

“That it means I’m pregnant? Yeah... I know...”

She set her things aside, wrapping her arms around you, “Oh my little girl... all grown up... about to have a little girl of her own.”

You chuckled through the tears that had begun to fall, “We don’t even know if it’s a girl yet. Not even close to finding that out.”

She waved your argument away, rubbing your back, “Did you forget who your mother is?”

You didn’t answer, holding her a little tighter. Your mom softened, voice quiet as she questioned, “What’s wrong, gummy?”

“I’m scared...”

“Of?”

“All of it.... being a mom... having a kid in the heart of Zaun... what if... what if Sevika falls out of love with me? Or I fuck up and lose the baby somehow? Or-”

“Excuse me? I know this isn’t how I raised you to think.”

“I know, but-”

“No buts. You’re scared of being a mom? Comes with the territory. You’re scared of having your kid in the heart of Zaun? Guess what, baby girl, that’s where my mom had me, and look at how I turned out. You think you’ll somehow breathe wrong and lose the baby, I already know because I know you- you won’t. I’ll check you two out properly before you guys go back home just to be sure everything is fine and in working order with you and your body and the baby.”

“As for Sevika? Sweet girl, if you think that girl is going anywhere away from you, then you clearly have a lot of learning to do. She looks at you like you’re the very air she needs to breathe; as if you hung the sun, moon, and stars just for her. That girl loves you even more than I do, and you’re my baby,” she chimed, playfully pinching your cheek, “Make no mistake, there’s nothing that could make her fall out of love with you. Not this one. And by Janna, if she does- call me.”

You chuckled through your tears, letting out a little sigh, “I got this?”

She gave you a kiss to your forehead, “Yes, sweet girl. You’ve got this. And I’ll be here the whole time, okay? And you’ve got a wife that loves you... You’ll be okay. And if you ever want to move back up here at any time during your pregnancy or after, let me know. My door is always open, you know this.”

“I know....”

The two of you stood like that for a good while before you mumbled, “Mommy?”

“Yes, gummy?”

“Thank you.”

She let out a soft sigh, shaking her head as she held you a little tighter, “Anything for my girl. I’ll keep the news to myself so you can tell my other daughter, alright?”

“Thanks... I love you.”

She planted an audible kiss to your forehead, “Of course, little one. I love you more. Now clean that pretty little face and get yourself together. I’ll tell your wife you’re using the bathroom while we get dinner going, okay?”

You let out a happy little sigh, giving your mother one last good squeeze, “Thanks, mommy.”

She gave your stomach a little pat before turning to leave, “Don’t take too long or you know she’ll come find you. Also, you have a cold, sit your ass on the couch when you come out and don’t you dare set foot in my kitchen, you hear?”

“Yes, mommy. I’ll be out in a second.”

The door closed behind her and you placed a hand on your stomach letting out a little breath, “Now I’ve gotta figure out how to tell your mom about you, angel.”

2 years.

Sevika had been hiding her daughter from her father successfully for 2 years.

She doesn’t know how he found her. She didn’t know then and, to this day, she doesn’t know now.

She’d returned to her childhood home from a day of “work”, heart falling from her stomach as Mieko came tottering to her, wrapping around her leg.

For the longest time, fear was the only word she could use to describe that day, but no... it was something more than that. Sevika wasn’t just afraid. She was horrified. Petrified even.

How long had her daughter been alone with her father? How did he find her? How long had he known about her? Was this his first time coming into contact with her?

A million questions and terrible scenarios ran through her mind, the soft pat of her daughter’s hand on her leg pulling her from the slow descent into panic. She couldn’t help but smile at her baby, picking her up and smothering her in kisses as the little girl dissolved into giggles. She could feel her father’s eyes watching her every move.

“You take her to the back room.” His voice was gruff as always, words short and to the point.

Sevika froze. She knew what was coming for her if she let go of her daughter and faced him alone. She didn’t move, arms clutching onto her child as her heart raced even faster than her thoughts.

There had to be a way out of this.

Her father hated repeating himself. His anger was palpable, a churning storm ready to roll through the house as he slammed his fist down, “Back room, now!”

The loud noise and his elevated voice scared Mieko. She started crying. He hates crying.

Sevika slowly backed toward the front door, holding a crying Mieko to her chest as she tried to quiet her.

Wrong.

Her father was in front of her in an instant, large hands reaching for Mieko. Sevika went to turn around, run back out the door, only to have her face smashed into it, her daughter torn from her arms by his other hand. He shook the crying child, screaming at her to shut up.

Disoriented with blurry vision, Sevika stood on unsure feet, trying to reach for her daughter back.

She felt that familiar tiny hand clutch her finger for the briefest of moments before a shot rang out.

She saw red.

Sevika’s hand strayed to the shell casings around her neck frequently throughout dinner, her eyes misty and sort of far away. Your mother looked to you, wondering what was up with her daughter in law, but you waved off her concern, stroking your thumb over Sevika’s thigh in a show of silent comfort each time she withdrew from the conversation.

After dinner was finished and the dishes had been put away, your mother left for bed with a kiss to each of your foreheads. You sat on the couch with your wife, rolling a cigar for her as she curled around you, her flesh hand at your stomach, tracing patterns over the bit of skin poking from beneath your top.

You placed the ‘gar between your lips, lighting it before taking a hit and holding it out for your wife.

She took it, not hitting it, but studying it before she took a hit, sighing upon her exhale of the smoke.

“How are you feelin’,” you asked softly, playing with her semi-wavy hair that had been freed from the braids and pigtails you’d made the night prior.

“Stressed... worried...” she trailed off, voice falling quieter as she passed the blunt back to you, “sad...”

“Where do you wanna start?”

She shrugged, unwrapping herself from around you to sit up beside you, “Dunno... it’s all just a lot right now...”

You leaned your head on her shoulder, taking a couple more hits of the blunt before you passed it back to her, taking up interest in her mech hand as you started to fiddle with the metal, “Okay.... what’s got you stressed?”

“Everything...”

“But in particular at this moment?”

She didn’t answer for a few moments, eyes clouding over again. You gave her mech hand a squeeze, whispering gently, “Hey...”

“Hm?”

“You keep leaving me... Talk to me...”

“Is it possible to miss someone you’ve never met?”

Her mom.

You gave a small nod, “Entirely possible.”

“It’s like.... this longing... But it’s more than that because how can you long for something you never truly had? Even worse to miss someone who... who’s not here anymore because of you...”

Her last sentence was like a ghost, the words dissipating the moment they left her lips.

“Sevi...”

“It’s fine, I’m-”

“No, you aren’t, baby... And you don’t have to be. It’s okay to not be okay... But I wish you’d stop faulting yourself for that...”

She let out a sigh, holding the blunt out for you, “I know... Just.... can we talk about something else? Or just cuddle and smoke?”

You nodded as you took another hit, “We can do that.”

The silence that fell was comfortable, the two of you sharing the blunt back and forth until it was nothing but a roach left. You leaned to place it in the ashtray on the coffee table before moving to lay aginst Sev’s chest.

Your body was buzzing. It had been a while since you last smoked and you felt that familiar sensation of both floating and sinking into your wife’s body as you lay atop her, her arms wrapped loosely around your waist, flesh hand trazing lazy patterns along your spine.

You tilted your head slightly to look up at her, her eyes fixated on the ceiling, but not really- she was thinking.

“You have such pretty eyes,” you whispered.

Her grin was immediate as she moved her vision down to you, those silver orbs darkened in her high state, “You think so?”

You nodded, curling further into her as you closed your own eyes, “So pretty... I hope the baby gets your eyes.”

Sevika is known for being a woman who revels in violence.

The Scary lady of Zaun.

She’s the one who kicks ass and takes names- no questions.

But it wasn’t always like that.

The shot flipped a switch in her.

To be quite honest, she’s not sure what exactly killed him.

Maybe it was her beating him.

Maybe it was her bashing his skull into the wall.

Maybe she’d broken his ribs with her kicks, punctured a lung or even better his heart.

She didn’t know.

But when the rage had settled and her father lie dead on the floor, she saw her little girl.

She crumpled, those tears she’d been holding back for so long in her life ripped from her as she held her girl in her arms.

Those tiny fingers wrapped around her pinky for the last time, matching silver orbs growing dim as Mieko took her final breath in her mother’s arms.

Sevika’s heart stopped in her chest as she froze beneath you.

You sat up, looking down to find her eyes glossed over, a single tear escaping, “Sev?”

Her eyes were wide, heart hammering away in her chest, threatening to burst from it as she just barely managed to speak, “You... you’re...”

You took her hands, nodding as you whispered, “Yeah, baby... I’m pregnant.”

You were holding back tears of your own. You’d only seen your wife cry once, and that was on your wedding day. Sevika crying was as rare as you getting a nosebleed.

You cupped her face in your hands, wiping away her tears as they fell. She seemed frozen, eyes faraway again as she whispered feebly, “You...”

Sevika didn’t know what to say. She had dreamed about this moment, played it out a million different ways in her head. She just knew she’d wrap you up in her arms, a mess of kisses and giggles. But now that it was here, the two of you under the light of the fire in your mom’s living room, she was stuck.

Her eyes focused on you as you spoke, tears in your eyes, “Hey, come back to me? You okay?”

No, she wasn’t okay.

“You’re pregnant...” she whispered, still sounding like she didn’t believe it.

You let out a soft chuckle, nodding as you leaned in to kiss a line down her nose, ending with her lips, “We made a baby, Sev...”

There were stars in her eyes as she stared at you. She was never one for flowery language, she’d tried, but she always stumbled over her words or felt like she’d just come off cheesy. Her hands moved to your waist, thumbs stroking the sides of your stomach as she looked up at you, “We did...”

“We’re gonna be parents...”

“We are...” she whispered, her words thick as she blinked away a fresh batch of tears.

You didn’t wipe them away this time. Instead, you pulled her closer, wrapping your arms around her as she tucked her face into the crook of your neck. If you felt her tears soak through your shirt, you didn’t say anything, fingers combing through her hair as you rocked softly.

Sevika was swimming through her thoughts in her mind. She was petrified and ecstatic at the same time, but the fear seemed to overtake the happiness by an astounding wave, causing her to press further into you. You simply wrapped your arms tighter around her, pressing a kiss into her hair as you rubbed her back to keep her grounded.

Her mind was running about a million miles a minute. Flashbacks of her own pregnancy, her labor and delivery in that cramped alley... the few moments of peace and happiness shared with her daughter.... Mieko’s eyes as the life leaked from them...

Then she thought about you. The life the two of you have settled into together. The day that started all of this when the two of you decided to try for a baby. About all the shit you’ve had to put up with thus far and all the things to come.

She pulled back to look at you, silver eyes glistening still in the lowlight, pupils blown as she found her voice, whispering under her breath, “Thank you...”

Your eyes caught on your mother, a soft smile on your face as she mouthed, “I told you so.”

🤎©️ All work belongs to sexysapphicshopowner. Do not use or repost my content in any way without my consent or permission. Thank you! 🤎

🤎 Taglist 🤎:

@certainlynotasimp @trafalgardvivi @love-sugarr @archangeldyke-all @fyeahnix

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ghostarii · 1 year ago

Text

GLASS TABLE GIRL ! ～ BLADE . ❛ i just wanna be one of your girls tonight.

˖ ⁺ ⫾  SHOW NOTES fem!reader ❱ guitarist!blade ❱ groping ❱ reader is a groupie ❱ PWP!!! ❱ (reader is intoxicated so technically) dubcon ❱ spanking ❱ degradation ❱ clit n nipple slapping ❱ ig ooc!blade but who cares ❱ choking/asphyxiation ❱ size kink ❱ dacryphilia ❱ outdoor/public sex ❱ exhibitionism ❱ spit ❱ face-fucking ❱ dirty talk ❱ reader has 0 self respect ❱ name calling ❱ overstimulation ❱ creampie & unprotected sex (stay safe) ❱ clit pinching ❱ hair pulling ❱ multiple orgasms ❱ cumplay(?) ❱ no aftercare ❱ minors & dc antis do not interact.

˖ ⁺ ⫾  CREDITS i have not written a fic in so effing long nd i was high writing this so excuse my rustiness :c but i have risen from my grave so let’s rejoice nonetheless ! !blade is on my mind 24/7 n i just want to be used n abused by him omfg turn me OWT! i listened to one of the girls by the weeknd literally the entire time i wrote this sooo feel free to listen while reading ^_^ i was js writing as i went so ts is very pwp sorryyy . . i’m gonna try to be more active on here i js need time to write so in the meantime pls show that my works would be appreciated here =( likes & reblogs are so GREATLY APPRECIATED ! ! ! if u don’t like, pls scroll cs comm guidelines r so mean to creators T_T

˖ ⁺ ⫾  RUN TIME 7.5k+ words . (of pure filth)

IF SOMEBODY ASKED you who your favorite artist was, you would say Ren—known by his moniker: BLADE. There was nothing you didn't like about this man; everything about him fundamentally and ultimately was the object of a girlish obsession. You knew all of his songs front to back, followed his social media on every single platform, and never missed a single piece of media uploaded about him. Your life was built around his style: dark and mysterious and enigmatic. He was your number one, unmatched and unchanged.

He was a hard man to come by. He frequently held small shows, with no more than twenty-thousand people on the high end. It was impossible to go, and every time you tried, your chance miserably passed you up. But this time, June twenty-third, twenty-twenty-three, you were right there, in the middle of the pit, only mere feet away from Blade. It was your first time seeing him in person by the grace of your best friend who surprisingly snagged tickets, and you’d never been more grateful in your life.

Blade was ethereal. The concert videos you’d seen over the years did not compare to the image in front of your face. It was dark, the main lights being spotlights shone on his pearly, perspiring, black, skin-tight silk-clothed skin, and dim red LED lights on the set behind him. His fingers ran effortlessly across his guitar, an inexplicably attractive riff and tone singing from the instrument. You felt like you were in Heaven, your eyes never leaving the show before your eyes. It was hot and uncomfortable in the pit but it was worth it. So worth it because he looked at you: taking you in with an unfaltering stare. His lip slipped between his teeth, and he shook his head, throwing stray locks to the back, and God, you felt as though you needed to be bolted to the ground with the way you wanted to jump on the stage. He walks up to the microphone, the most gut-wrenchingly hot vocals sliding off of his tongue. His eyes were closed, smudged eyeliner emphasizing his fluttering, long lashes, and his lips were spit-slicked, parting and pursing with each sultry lyric leaving. They were plump and rosy as if they were asking to be kissed—it was a sight to behold.

You sang your heart out, dragging your hand from waving in the air down a curvy path on your body, going from your shoulder to your chest to below where Blade’s sight would reach. You turned to your friend and recited the lyrics with a big smile and following giggle, all to turn your attention back to the stage and lock eyes with him. Your thighs clamped together just at the narrowed and burning gaze he delivered. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted a man more than you do right now.

Your friend found a way closer to the stage and you wedged your way between the crowd, finding yourself so close that the speakers were banging on your eardrums. You could feel the music in your bones, and all you could think of to describe it was hot and heavy. Maybe it was all of the pregaming you and your friend did before the concert, or the condensed heat and gyrating bodies, but you were so hot. You wipe your sweaty skin as you sway to the beginning of the next song, taking out your phone to begin recording.

Blade leans into the mic, muttering lowly, “I want you all to sing.” He pulls the microphone out of the stand, letting his guitar hang off of his shoulder from the strap. And that’s when he makes his way to where you stand, muttering small “yeah”’s and “good job”’s into the mic as the crowd collectively sings. He kneels right before you, “Sing.” he says into the mic.

You go wide-eyed—cute, he thinks—but you start singing. You grab an open portion of the microphone, leaning in as close as possible and reciting the lyrics of the song just as you were told. All eyes and cameras were on you, and that included Blade, who held an intense gaze on you the entire verse. When you finish the crowd erupts in cheers and screams, and he pulls away, finishing the song. You turned to your friend and screamed about your main character moment, dancing and singing even happier into her recording phone. This was the best night of your life.

For the rest of the concert, you had the time of your life. Blade ends the show with a final guitar solo, the entire audience silent as he wrecks the strings and pours his heart into his vocals. He briefly spoke to his fans, thanking everyone for coming out and heading backstage as everyone began to clear out. And all he could think about was that girl who his eyes couldn't help but wander toward, and to whom his thoughts dedicated his innuendos. He remembers the sign you held at the beginning of the show: “BLADE ♡WNS M(Y)E (HEART) ♡”. Your eyes honed filth that your natural disposition didn’t and he longed for it. He held bated breath as he informed his security about you, requesting you be located and brought to him and they replied with “We’ll try our best, sir.”

It was an after-concert tradition for Blade to hit up a local club, especially in situations like this where it was his last stop. He hoped he’d find you there, but he knew you would, especially if you were as big of a fan as you looked.

“Yukong, just thirty minutes! Please!!” you pleaded, trying to pull your friend into your opinion. She shook her head no, “I can’t! I have to go home! I’m so tired and you know…” you stop your friend there, not wanting to hear about her boyfriend.

“Fine. I’m still going though, text me when you get home.” you didn’t want Yukong to go home. But arguing was pointless, and only time was being put to the test, not her stubbornness. You knew from your years as a Blade fan that he always went to the club after a concert to meet fans, and some rumors even suggested ulterior motives, so you wanted to go. Yukong frowned at your flat expression but still hugged you, waving at you as she got in her car to go home. You’d be flying solo, but you had faith in yourself.

So you make your way over to the nearest club via taxi, praying that this is the one that Blade would visit. You weren’t all too familiar with the place, its name, Starskiff Haven, only being one you’ve heard in passing. Regardless, your thoughts were assured by the abundance of fighting and pushing bodies to get in the door—and when your phone lit up, a Twitter notification from a Blade Updates page noting his location, Starskiff Haven, you smiled widely, making your way to the line.

It was way too long and you weren’t interested in waiting all night—you had to meet Blade. A time like this is when Yukong comes into hand with her very stern persuasion, something that’s near impossible to deny. But she left, and you’d have to figure out a way in. And a thought immediately came to mind.

You walked to the front of the line, breathing in deeply and psyching yourself up for how incredibly you were about to embarrass yourself. When you exhale, you book it, beelining straight into the club, right past security. You immediately shift your demeanor, blending into the crowd seamlessly as security guards rush in, looking around for you. Hiding behind the most cluelessly drunk girl, you make your way to the bar, immediately ordering a sidecar. It packed a punch and the combination of how many shots you had earlier, it’d be just enough to get you through whatever you were about to do.

You turn around in the swivel stool, taking in the atmosphere and coasting the area for any sighting of Blade. The club was darker than the concert but heavily illuminated with hazy, colorful LEDS and much, much louder, filled to the brim with chatter and deafening bass-boosted music. Your drink was brought to you moments later, and with a big sip, you raked your eyes over the club once again. You could see bodies grinding on the main floor, the DJ bopping his head as his hands moved diligently across his DJ controller, couples making out and slipping into cornered areas, and friend groups recording and taking pictures. It was a lively environment, sure, and from the strength that beat on your tongue, established by incredibly skilled bartenders—but you weren’t looking for a new clubbing spot, you were looking for Blade.

And Blade was looking for you. Swimming through the unforgivingly hot crowd for you. He wasn’t itching to have you, he was itching to take you. Every time he closed his eyes he was brought back to his time on stage and how you danced in the audience. How your lips pushed out his lyrics and how your hands couldn’t stop waving in the air and running on your skin. How you swiped off sweat from your forehead and fanned yourself with your sign. And how you couldn’t keep your star-filled eyes off of him. Every light reflection off of your eyes showed desperation and neediness. You were begging to be picked without ever uttering a word, and he was not one to ignore indulgence. You needed him and he wanted you—so where are you?

Perched on that blue-velvet cushioned swivel stool. Sipping whatever remaining contents of your sidecar. And when he saw you, you saw him. You locked eyes and each plastered ill-intended smirks across your faces. And while you had his attention, you brought the glass to your lips, smacking them open and running your tongue along the sugar rim, collecting the sweetness on your tongue. You sucked on your tongue, rolling your eyes and he swears the “Ahh” leaving your lips is audible from his distance. He stayed still even as you slapped down your money on the counter, hopping down and disappearing into the crowd.

You make your way to him quickly, holding onto your rapidly rising chest and laughing at yourself. You were on a roll of unbelievable behavior, but it seemed to be a clean stroke because you were yet to meet a roadblock. And in a very blurry couple of minutes, the goal you’d been working toward was in the palm of your hand—literally.

You danced your way to Blade when you were finally close to him, sliding up against his body sweetly. He was tall and so sturdy against you, but he was smooth like butter as he synced to your movements and danced behind you. His hands were on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as he pushed up against you. Your exchange was wordless but it spoke volumes. It felt like a dream, entirely too good to be true but you indulged anyway, grinding against him. A gasp escapes your mouth as his left hand unabashedly grapes your tit, squeezing roughly and experimentally. His other hand trails dangerously on the band of your shorts and you let your head fall back on his shoulder, “I'm your biggest fan…”

He laughs at your declaration, leaning to press his lips feather-lightly at the shell of your ear, “Are you now?” you nod immediately, pressing into him. “‘Blade owns me’.” he mocks your sign, and laughs when he feels you slightly tense under his touch.

“I picked you,” and again, he leans down to your ear, “Are you happy, slut?” The word is so mean but it sounds so good from him. You nearly moan, nodding eagerly, as if complying with his word came with a medal. You were a slut, so willing to give it up as soon as he laid eyes on you. And you weren’t afraid to go low to get his attention, doing just about anything to be his for the night.

Fangirls like you are nothing new to Blade and as a man who looks like he does, it comes with the territory. He can read you like a damn book, cover to cover with ease because despite how enigmatic and indifferent to the norm you may try to appear, you wear your whole being on your sleeve. You do everything in your power to be somebody you're not. Your life revolves around who you think you should be and not who you are. A lot of girls are born with “it”: an innate ability to be the one wanted and desired, but you? Your “it” is manufactured, the blueprint drawn out by girls who are it. You're stuck in a limbo created by your age: too old to not be settling down, but too young to not live your life, and you try to make a box for yourself, being the exception to a path laid out for you. You're lost in the life you lead, and with the way you're dancing so shamelessly and needily on him, Blade knows you. You’re the type of girl who sees getting used as a flex, and despite signing an NDA or promising to never say anything, you’ll tell this person and that person that you got to sleep with the Blade; that the Blade picked you. Women like you are a cancer in the industry. Pests that are incessant and damn near impossible to get rid of. He knows you won't be any different than those before you, but there’s a desire to take you that he cannot ignore.

It’s his natural instinct as a man—or he’s just a shitty person. Perhaps a combination of both, because all he can think about is putting you to use. You’re making it so easy, moaning into the air under the thick remixed song the DJ is spinning, grinding against him, and holding his hand on your tit—you want him, and you’re giving yourself to him on a silver platter. You have a clear lack of respect for yourself, but luckily for you, that’s Blade’s type in women.

The atmosphere seems to be getting heavier, and it feels like time is getting slow and choppy. Now your arms are around Blade’s neck and his large hands are holding onto your ass, and you’re so close, you can feel your chests brushing with each breath you take. The world around you is nothing but background. It doesn’t exist to you, it doesn't matter to you. Not when you have Blade, the literal man of your dreams, right in your palm, and all he's looking at is you.

You feel so special. So wanted and so desired. You feel all eyes on you like you're the main attraction and everybody can’t help but watch and weep, wishing to be you. Your ego is skyrocketed and every embarrassing thing you’ve done tonight doesn't matter to you anymore because it paid off. Your eyes locked and the space between you closed. Your heart synced with the booming beat of the current song playing. You lean in, pressing your hands at the back of his neck and pulling him in. And you kiss him. You kiss Blade.

Blade kisses you back. He tightens the grip on your ass and you moan into his mouth, letting him infiltrate your mouth. He sucks on your tongue, smiling against you when he feels you push up on your tippy toes and hears you whimper into his mouth. He kisses you back. He pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, pecking your lips once more before moving to your cheek, then to your jaw, then to your neck. His hands are groping at you, roughly grabbing your ass, then your waist, then your breasts. “Are you wet?”

He says it so only you can hear it. You nod. “How wet?” He moves back up to your jaw, placing another kiss. You flutter your lashes, meeting his gaze, “So wet. All for you.”

At your response, he groans, pulling off of you. He chuckles when you pout at him. You’re just what he needs for this night. He grabs your chin, holding your face and leaning down, your lips brushing against his own. “I'm going to go smoke.” and he tells you this for a reason.

You watch with the biggest smile on your face as he sifts through the crowd, heading out of a side door. It was now or never.

Quickly, you rush to the bathroom to freshen up. You fix your hair, digging into your pocket and fishing out your lipgloss, reapplying, and you fan yourself, cooling down to not look a flustered mess. And just as quick as you ran in, you ran out toward the side door, immediately looking both ways for Blade. You smell smoke distantly and turn right, and a few paces down he stood, leaning against the brick wall of the neighboring restaurant. He's next to stacks of old wood and crates and you smile, thinking about whatever was about to go down between you.

You step in front of him and he smiles, taking you in once again. He blows his smoke in your face, tapping the ash off the cigarette before smashing the butt into the wall behind him. “Hi,” you say. He says nothing back, just slides his hand to the back of your neck and pulls you in. The kiss you share this time is messy and he now asserts control, nipping your bottom lip when he feels you go weak and pulls back.

He rakes his eyes up and down your body as you stand for him. This is the first time all night he’s seen you properly, in moderately okay lighting. Your jean mini-skirt is tight to you, accentuating the curve and fullness of your ass, and teases what’s beneath with your plump thighs poking out and how it rides up slightly. Your skin-tight baby tank is seemingly one with your figure, bringing out the best in you and making him smile with the “I ♡ BLADE” print across your chest. Your thigh-high boots did nothing when you were near him—he was looming and caging. He was intimidating and arousing, and with the lustful gaze you shared, the climax of your day was steadily approaching.

“Take it off.” He looks down at your chest and you get the memo; immediately grabbing the hem of your tank top and pulling it over your head. “Slow. Take your time…” And you listen, letting your body swivel as you remove the shirt. You unhook the clasp of your bra, and before your boobs could spill out of the confines, he grabs you and wedged you between him and the wall he previously leaned on.

The front of your body is slapped on the cold brick, but you’re swallowed in warmth as he presses against you, grinding his hard-on against your ass. One hand grabs your wrists, and the other turns you around. You look at him innocently, shivering at the breeze that blows down the alley. You can smell him: woody, smokey, and expensive. Yet here he was, pressing you up against a brick wall in a random alley. “You’re such an easy slut, y’know.”

“Bet you been thinking about this; daydreaming about your favorite artist pinning you and trashing you like the fucking whore you are.” he presses against your front, nipping at your jaw. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

You whimper, “Fuck me. Take me. Make me yours.”

“Tell me.” He growls - your answer not sufficing. “Want you to break me,”

“Always fantasized…wanting you to shove your dick down my throat and use it mindlessly and mercilessly.” He begins to kiss down your throat again, licking the tender skin. He smirks when you stop talking, your breath hitching and your head craning backward to open the expanse of your neck. He starts biting on your newfound sweet spot when you begin again, “Spit in my mouth and force me to swallow it with your cum,”

He gets to your chest, immediately taking a nipple between his teeth. He listens to you wince and whine as he does, pushing your chest into his face. “And make me beg you to fuck me. Teasing me…fuck—pinching me, pulling my hair until I'm teary-eyed and begging…”

“...And then you fuck me like you hate me; choking me, slapping me, degrading me all while I thank you stupidly.”

“You’re just fucking disgusting,” he mumbles around your nipple. He lets your hands go, palming your free tit immediately. His eyes are narrow as you whine when he twinges the bud roughly. “Put so much thought into this…you’re a weirdo slut.”

You shake your head, breathing out heavily to refute his claim, “Nuh-uh—your biggest fan.” you correct.

He laughs at you. You’re much more fun than he thought, and a lot less shameless, too. You're throwing all of your big cards out; this is your go-big or go-home moment, and while you have him here, you’ll bare yourself wholly because if not now, then not ever. Blade has to commend your patience though. You're letting him toy around, graze around your unknown territory and feel you out. You’re needy but obedient. Tired of waiting but understanding. Absolutely fucking shameful and proud, but eager to be good—so maybe he was wrong about you. You do have an “it”: an innate ability to be the perfect fucktoy.

When he lets you go, he immediately instructs you to get on your knees. And you listen immediately. The cold gravel digs into your bare knees and it's incredibly uncomfortable, yet you don’t utter a word. Your nipples are hard and pebbled and are probably so sensitive, yet you say nothing. You only sit before him, fingers dancing on the exposed thigh as you look up at him, waiting to be put to use.

So he slaps you. As you told him to—he slaps you, and his hand is heavy coming against your skin. It sounds off for what felt like possibly hundreds of miles, and your face doesn’t sting, but it hurts. The skin is heating up from the impact and your head turns to the side, hair falling against your face, yet you don’t utter a word. He grabs the back of your head, forcing you to look at him and dangerously smiling when your teary eyes look up at him wide and thankfully. “Pull my cock out,” he instructs, letting you go and standing up straight.

You get to work on his belt, undoing it swiftly, and then you unbutton his pants. You tease yourself: slowly pulling the zipper down, and when pulling his pants down to his ankles, you palm him softly, gently patting his throbbing cock and staring at the growing wet spot in his underwear. You kiss the wet spot, and then you kiss it again, and again until you suck lightly on it while making eye contact with him. You moan at the very faint taste, fluttering your eyes shut, and finally sliding your hand under the band of his underwear, holding his dick.

Blade hisses at your touch, bucking slightly into your hold at the initial contact. Usually, he’d curse you out at this point for going so slow, but he’s letting it slide this time; allowing you to take control and show him how worth it and nasty you really are.

He’s big. He’s thick—your hand can just barely wrap around the entire shaft, and as you lift him to unsheath him from his boxers, you feel how heavy he is. And hard. So fucking hard.

You gawk at his cock like a kid in a candy store, staring at his leaking slit intensely—almost as if you're waiting. “Go ahead; show me how big of a fan you are.”

You kiss his tip, the bead of precum smearing on your lips. Smacking your lips apart suggestively, you wrap your right hand around the base, applying tightness and pressure as you find the right grip, and when you do, you finally lick a clean stripe across the head. Your tongue sweeps up the new milky droplet spilling out, and you contently hum at the taste, making him groan in response. You lick from the angry tip all the way to his trimmed base, then back up again until you’ve teased every side of him and located his sensitive vein.

If anybody would have told you that all you dreamed about would be coming to fruition—all by mere luck and chance—you wouldn’t believe it. And you still don't; even as you spit a thick bead of your saliva on his cock and then massage it in with your tongue, swirling all around the sensitive head. But it’s real because he moans out for you as you finally take him in, the throb getting heavier as he sits on your tongue and your lips hug him tight.

You begin your ministrations: toying with his balls lightly as you bob up and down, going as far as you could. You tried your best to take him all in. You stretched your mouth wide around him until it felt like your mouth was going to rip at the corners and until it felt like all you could do was sputter and leak drool around him. Tears brimmed in your eyes and each time you blinked them back, keeping a pretty smile on your face every time you came up for air. Your lipgloss was mixed in with spit, and clear tear streaks had already begun to run their course with your base makeup, but you didn't stop. You were moaning incessantly, suffocating his dick in your intense vibrations that had him moaning and grunting.

When you come up from your nth deepthroat attempt, it's not for air, but to breathlessly huff out “Fuck my face…please,” And since you asked so nicely…

“Blink twice if it gets to be too much.” You open your mouth as wide as you could, sticking your tongue out. He pulls your hair back for you, yanking your head back and spitting on your tongue. His eyes tell you not to move, so you don’t, keeping eye contact with him as he wraps his other hand around your own, guiding your smaller hands up and down his shaft. He shudders, “F-fuck…’m so fuckin’ hard…”

And then he slides onto your tongue, not wasting any time before bottoming out in your mouth. Your eyes widen in surprise, and your unprepared gags speak volumes to your shock. But that doesn't deter you from wrapping your lips around him. And from there, he pulls out, pulling your head back and then pushing you back down as he thrusts his hips forward. He curses under his breath before picking up his pace, thrusting so hard that his grip tightens on your hair to hold you properly in place, fucking roughly into your face. You can only choke and sputter, having already taken your hands from around his dick and digging crescent nail shapes into his thighs. The sounds eliciting from the two of you are so nasty and filthy. His balls slap at your chin, your voice rings out from around his girth, and his moans echo around the world. You can’t take it but you’re doing a great job of trying. He slaps your face again, pulling out and hitting his tip on your tongue. “Keep your fucking eyes on me,”

“If you can do that, I'll cum all down your throat and all over your pretty fucking face, okay?” You nod eagerly, and as an incredibly degrading action of praise and acceptance, he slaps his spit-slicked dick against your cheek a few times. “Good girl.” Butterflies swarm in your stomach at his praise.

When Blade slides in, he smacks against your face. He goes to the very hilt, pushing his way to the depths of your throat roughly. Your nose is pressed up against his pelvis, and your cheeks are catching stray tears. But this is consistent as he begins thrusting, using you per your request. He grunts out each time his tip hits the back of your throat, thrusting so roughly and meanly into you. Again, you feel like all you can do is choke and gag, spilling slobber and precum mix back down his length. It’s fucking filthy and the loud squelching and impact noises hit your ears nastily, yet you can’t help but squirm and attempt to grind for friction to subdue the need throbbing in your clit.

Above you, the man is falling apart. His hips stutter every now and then and his voice is fucking endless. His long hair sticks to his sweaty forehead and sides of his neck, and it looks damn near intentionally placed from how beautiful he looks. The outdoor lights are like distant illuminators; glowing behind him softly—almost angelically. His eyebrows are knitted together and he struggles to keep his eyes every time he reaches the back of your throat and you start gagging. It’s beyond pleasurable. Blade isn't sure if it’s because of all the tension the two of you have built up, or if it's because he hasn't had any action in the last 3 weeks because of his neverending schedule, or if it’s because your mouth is fucking amazing, but he can't keep himself together. His chest starts heaving faster as he comes close to his high, his knees beginning to buckle, and his stomach caving.

You flick your tongue on the underside of his cock as much as you can and glue your eyes to his, seeing his release breaking him down inch by inch. “Fuck! I'm gonna fucking cum!” He announces, throwing his head back.

He stills in your mouth and you take the opportunity to suck harshly on his tip, swirling your tongue around it like it’s the sweetest lolly you’ve ever tasted. He pulls out of your mouth, and you vigorously stroke his cock, so focused and determined to milk him dry. He leans forward, slapping his palm against the wall behind you for stability as he cums. He moans so prettily as he paints your face, the warm ropes making you hum contently. You give him no break, sucking his tip one last time to make sure you get the most out of what he’s given you.

Blade catches his breath, standing up straight soon after and condescendingly cooing at the mess made on your face. He picks up a glob as he sweeps his thumb over your cheek, sliding the digit in your mouth. He presses on your tongue, finding pleasure in how you swallow your sounds under a layer of gagging, but how you never tear your eyes off of him. He does this until you’ve cleaned off your face—but he's not done with you.

You're finally allowed off of your aching knees. You're sure the gravel will leave an indent from how long you were down there. He pinches your pebbled nipples, smirking as you yelp. “What was it that was next? Making you beg..making you earn my cock in you?” you nod rapidly, backing into the wall for stability as he toys with your very sensitive tits. “Show me how you beg then.”

You put your hands on his shoulders to help you stand up, feeling so weak all of a sudden. Your voice cracks as you try to speak, meek little whimpers flowing out as he works your body expertly—like he knows what gets you going. “Please…fuck–Please fuck me, I need you so bad…!”

A shrill yelp is chased out of your throat when his palm cracks against one of your boobs, “Is that all you got? Try again.”

So you do. “Need you to fuck me, Blade. I wanna be used by you, broken–please, I'll do anything!”

“Not good enough. Again.”

“Please fuck me like the slut I am! I need to be full of you, need to have you fuck me ragged and dumb so all I think of is you!” you pitch up your voice, breathing it all out in one breath.

Pitiful. Another smack. “Again.”

“I'm so needy for you, please! It hurts–I need you so much, it hurts! Please…”

And he's heard enough. His right hand slides up to your neck, forcing you against the wall. His grip is tight, fingers pressing into the sides and you have to fight for your eyes to not roll to the back of your head. “You must not want me as bad as you acted like you did…”

“I do! I do!” You interject, but your voice is weak and small—nothing in comparison to his deep and lust-saturated tone. “Then act like you do. Beg.”

He runs his other hand up your thigh, cupping your cunt. Your panties are soaked, and he can feel the heat radiating off of you. He pushes the fabric to the side, running two fingers through your folds and you swear you almost fell out then and there. You'd gone teased and untouched all night—you were beyond ready.

“Pussy is fucking soaked…” he mumbles, letting his index and middle finger twirl through your folds, getting closer and closer to your clit. “You want me here? To fuck your sloppy pussy until you're cumming your brains out?”

Your eyes start to roll and he can feel the pulse intensify in your cunt. That's exactly what you wanted. “Say it. Say ‘I want my sloppy pussy fucked until I'm cumming my brains out, Blade’. Say it,”

You part your lips, and he slightly loosens the grip on your throat, “Wan–want…I want my sloppy pussy…” You get shy with your words, and he delivers a slap to your clit. The stimulation has you buckling over. You feel like his hands on you are going to be the death of you. “Say it.”

With the courage finally built up, “I want my sloppy pussy fucked until I'm cumming my brains out, Blade! Please, I need it s’bad…feel like I'm gonna fucking die!” leaves your lips easily like spreading butter on toast. His lips that you never got enough of tasting quirk up into his signature smirk. He lets you go, pushing you against the wooden crates and flipping up your jean skirt.

“There you go; atta-fucking-girl.” he practically rips your panties off of you, slapping your pussy just for the hell of it. He cringes at the sound it makes and laughs cruelly at your whimpering. He presses up against you, his semi-hard dick pressed against your ass, and he wraps his arm around you and shows you the coat of your arousal that paints his fingers. “Spit.”

With your spit and abundance of slick collected on his fingers, Blade strokes his cock, going until he’s near painfully hard. The sounds he elicits make your pussy clench around nothing, needing to be satiated so desperately. “Are you ready? There’s no going back.”

This is somehow the sweetest moment for you. Your heart swells and you can only sheepishly nod, wiggling your hips eagerly. “Never been more sure about anything in my life. Ruin me.”

Ask once more, and you shall receive once more. His cock is swiped through your folds and collects a considerable amount of your arousal. He lines up at your entrance, watching you brace yourself with a smile ingrained into his face. He pushes in with a sharp inhale, biting his tongue at the feel of your tightness. Your pussy sucks him right in and—fuck. Warm and soft and tight, he could cum right now.

Your face crinkles up and you grip tightly onto the wooden crates in front of you. You’ve dreamt of this for so long—touched yourself at night to the thought and it's finally happening. He's inside of you, stretching you out, sinking in and in and in, inch by inch until he buries himself deep in your guts, until his tight and heavy balls are touching your folds. You're so sensitive you feel like you're ready to cream already, and you need it, need him, and need more. You grind your hips back on him, exhaling thickly as you rest your head against your forearm. “So fucking ready for me…”

His hand cracks down on your ass. It hurts so well and you wince, arching your back further. He sighs, kneading your skin softly. Then he pulls out, inching out until only the tip sits idly in you. You turn around to look at him, and doing that ignites his fire.

Your face is pathetic and fucked out already. Eyebrows knitted together and your eyes heavy, hardly staying open. Your lips are parted yet folded into a small frown, and perspiration rests at your hairline. You egg him on to slam into you, and he watches your frown drop into a wide ‘o’ shape, your eyes fluttering. So he does it again. And your lip now slips between your teeth. And again. And you drop your head back onto your arms.

And so Blade keeps up this pace, gradually going faster as the pit in his stomach urges him to do so. Your sounds are now uncontrollable—they fly out of you like a skipping record, incoherent babbles, and sinful moans. Each collision of your bodies elicits a visceral, wet slap that echoes off the walls of the alleyway. People around the world could probably hear what you're doing, and you're not sure if that bothers you…if the thought of a curious passerby walking down this alley naïvely would be an issue. If anything, it makes you get louder, your throat not getting to rest.

He hits you again, groaning when your pussy clenches around him. “You’re so fucking loud– you want somebody to find us?” Yes, that is what you want to say. But you moan out louder, shaking your head no. He hits you again. “Don’t lie to me,”

“You’re a fucking painslut,” he spits at you. He wraps his arm to reach your clit, immediately finding the bud and pinching it. Your knees go weak and he stabilizes you against him by pushing you further into the crates in front of you. You sniffle and whimper, presumably spilling tears down your filthy fucking face but doing nothing but asking for more. You've gotten so wet, dripping everywhere messily and Blade only cringes his face up with each wet collision. You're so nasty, so filthy, letting a stranger who you parasocial bonded yourself to defile you in public. He's feeding into your crazed delusions, but he’d honestly rather be doing nothing else. When he pinches your clit again your body shakes. Your knees buckle again and from the waist up you're basically limp. He feels you tighten around him and he sucks his teeth, parting your ass to peer at the milky ring forming around the base of his cock. “Did you just fucking cum?” Yes, you did. And you felt like Heaven doing it.

“You came ‘cause I pinched your clit…” he does it again and you jolt up, whining for him to stop. “So if I slap it…” he slaps it, eyeing you for your reaction. “Or rub on it like I love you…” his fingers run circles on your bud, feeling you get impossibly tighter around him. “So fucking easy.”

He resumes his thrusts like he never stopped—slamming into you unapologetically and now additionally, rubbing on your cute, abused clit. He's not going to last long at this rate. Your pussy gushes around him like a running river and the noises have gotten even nastier. Squelching and the occasional puffs of air escaping…you’re a mess.

“Love this fucking cunt,” he praises while pinching your clit. His free hand that rested on the small of your back is now holding onto your neck, forcing you to stand upright against him. Blade is lean but muscular. His arms flex and you feel his abs every time your bodies get close enough. His strong thighs touch yours and it's like you feel his entire body weight every time he pushes into you. “So good, ‘s so fucking good, Blade!”

The man laughs at your outburst. He angles his hips differently, trying so hard to find your sweet spot to get you creaming again. “Yeah?” he asks, tightening his grip on your throat. “Mhm-!” you concur.

“Where?” He’s sure he's found it, and he drives his hips up, groaning happily once he feels your gummy walls contract around him. “Here?”

Your head nods rapidly. “Yes, yes, yes–fuck! Right there, oh my fucking God!”

Neither of you are going to last. Blade’s balls are so tight and the way your pussy hugs him is even tighter. You suck him in like you never want him to leave, but your over-stimulated squeals and shaking thighs suggest otherwise. He’s found your sweet spot and is recklessly abusing it, going all or nothing. The way he toyed with your clit like a kitten pawing at a toy was too much—it started to hurt, to throb endlessly as your stomach knotted and your hole drooled. His grip on your neck was the icing on the cake. You felt like you could no longer breathe — like his thrusts were knocking the wind out of you and him choking you was keeping it out. Every little thing he did pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

He was even more merciless than before. Blade fucked into you harder, rougher, and faster than before, and you chalked that up to his orgasm catching up to him. You listen to his songs on repeat all the time but never have you heard him sing more beautifully than now as he digs your pussy out. You were really blessed with this night, and now it is coming to a very eventful end.

“‘M gonna fucking cum–!” You announce, and Blade nods his head in agreement. He slaps your cunt one last time, his fingers covered in your juices now tweaking at one of your nipples. “Me…me too, fuck.”

He leans into your ear, “Make me cum in this fucking pussy,” a throaty moan breaks his sentence, and you moan back, feeling it coming. “So close, so close…!”

It's this contraction that has Blade falling apart. He thrusts into you one last time, his eyes shooting wide open as he cums deep in you. He moans gutturally and shakily, feeling you clench tighter as you orgasm as well. His hips stutter in you and your hips ride back onto him as you both come down from your highs. The alley is now deafeningly silent and you flush in embarrassment from how loud you must have been. He lets your neck and tit go, using one hand to now spread your ass and pull out his cock. Your pussy is puffy and shiny, and when he’s out, he watches with a burning gaze as your mixture of cum starts to slightly spill out.

He groans, slapping your ass one last time. You two finally separate, and you turn around to look at him. You're sure he doesn't look as fucked up as you do, but even so disheveled and fucked out and sweaty as he is, you can’t help but feel your heart flutter. He pulls up his boxers and pants, fixing his shirt before he looks over at your mostly naked frame. He comes over to you, pulling down your skirt, and his doing this makes you feel less like a one-night stand, and more like one of his girls.

Being so close to you, he breathes you in. You smell like sex, but beneath that is a layer of whatever fruity perfume you sprayed on you, and it's delectable; so he kisses you. It's something he doesn't usually do, and he wouldn't have done it for you, but you entrance him. Perhaps it's because you're what he likes— he's met his match.

But you kiss each other passionately like you were trying to reignite the flame you just spent God knows how long fucking out. Your tongues are well acquainted with one another, swirling and bumping and riding past one another knowingly. He pulls away from you, looking in your eyes as he lets spit fall onto your tongue once again. You smile happily as you swallow it—God, you could do this forever. “Come back with me,”

You didn't expect him to say that. You blink your eyes a few times in disbelief. This night can't be any more unreal. He notices your confusion and smiles, “Is that a no–”

“–No! I'll come with you!” you don't know where he’s taking you, or what it means to go with him. You do know that you’ll have a lot to tell Yukong, NDA or not, and that you’ll never forget this day.

Smiling again, this time devilishly, Blade pulls away from you, pinching your cheek. “Good girl.”

#honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai x reader #blade honkai #honkai smut #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr smut #hsr blade #blade smut #blade x reader #blade x you #blade x reader smut #minors & ageless blogs do not interact.#hsr blade smut #hsr ren

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hiddengiggles · 6 days ago

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Resisting the temptation to message all the ageless or minor blogs in my notes “Hi! Have a shitty day!” before I block them.

But I’m demure. I’m cutesy. I’m mindful. I don’t engage at all and block them.

But damn if I let myself be just a liiiiittle petty…

Anyways list your age, age range, decade, whatever, or fuck right off. 18+ is not an age, it’s a content warning. Thanks ❤️

#protect yourself and others by keeping minors out of kink #sfw does not mean safe for minors #about me #sfw #mdni #minors dni #minors do not interact #ageless blogs dni #ageless dni

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sleepingdeath-light · 2 years ago

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Hi. I have something interesting. Do you do other Disney characters not mentioned on the list for nsfw cannons from requests? If yes, then I would like to ask for an nsfw head cannon for my favorite Disney villain, Captain Hook please? I just have a serious crush on him.

Smut Headcanons | Captain Hook (18+)

thank you for requesting!

reader is assumed as gender neutral

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

this man is a strict dominant with no compromise — the best you can get out of him is to have him as a power bottom, but even that is a rare treat

is into knife play as a way of punishing and/or marking you — though you’ll likely get cut up whether or not you’re engaging in that type of play because, well, he can get a bit ahead of himself and he has a weapon for a prosthetic hand

he has an extremely sensitive chest and shoulder area, so any biting/marking/scratching/kissing of that area will get extremely vocal responses (grunts and groans, mainly)

will happily bend you over the desk in his cabin and take out his frustration on you (which usually translates to loud, angry, rough sex that will fluster most of your crew)

if you want to get him to snap and take you immediately, the best way to do this is to wear one of his shirts or his coat and hat — with nothing else, of course

you will end up getting scruff burn on your face, chest and between your legs due to how excited he can get

isn’t above choking you if you get too loud when you’re not supposed to

will shamelessly whisper in your ear about all the things he’s going to do to you once you’re back on the ship before moving away and pretending nothing happened

may not be the best at achieving his own goals, but he’s very competent in the bedroom and startlingly good at getting under your skin in the best way

doesn’t mark you in places that will be visible when you’re clothed and prefers you do the same — though this is mostly a carryover from his life before neverland and the values he grew up with

is quick to jealousy and will take it out on you in the bedroom (possessive would be a better term but he denies it either way)

pulling his hair will make him moan like a bitch

#sleepingdeath #gender neutral reader #disney x reader #disney villains x reader #disney villain smut #smut #smut headcanons #disney smut #minors do not interact #minors fuck off #minors dni #captain hook x reader #captain hook smut #ageless blogs dni #ageless blogs will be blocked #minors will be blocked

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dee-daa · 2 months ago

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my legs are open, my holes are ready and waiting.

if this man needs to breed someone, then i volunteer as tribute

#deembles #what in hell is bad #whb asmodeus #horn-dee hours #minors do not interact #minors dni #mdni #ageless blogs dni #ageless dni #ageless blogs do not interact #minors will be blocked #ageless blogs will be blocked

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rakkuntoast · 1 year ago

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i guess this is an au now??? or something???? anyway i love coworker duo

#philza #badboyhalo #coworker duo #this is them in their more younger years. say bad is around 1k years old. phil he's just whatver he feels like :smile:#i gave up into giving phil an age he just decides of hes 35 or ageless #based on their q! characters cuz yeah this came from them interacting these so yk yeahhhhh #my art

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cataclysmicdeception · 22 days ago

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A fate worse than death stands before you.

Cataclys, a decepticon skilled in the art of interrogation, manipulation, and torture, and killing. She threw away her seemly happy life to pursue the dark twisted nature that was hidden below the surface. Emotionally numb after the loss of her conjunx, she works with the decepticons purely for her own gain - seeking thrills in battle, being experimented on, or conducting said experiments, and so many more twisted reasons. She's reckless, and extremely dangerous. It's best you avoid her at all cost, autobot, decepticon, or any other life forms are NOT safe from her ...

THIS IS A SIDEBLOG, I cant send asks as Cat - which is intentional I lowkey get anxious doing that, and I can't really follow you back unless it's on my primaryblog @sentinelswife!

MDNI, sorry but I really don't want children on my blog.

MVRP RP BLOG, literate or crack posting

POSSIBLE GORE, DEPRESSION, AND OTHER DARK TOPICS WARNING - she is NOT a happy oc

MULTISHIP! If anyone can get her to feel love, she is all yours.

No bigotry of any kind is tolerated here, my blog is meant to be a fun and safe place!

You're welcome to dm for rps too!

Same writer as @sentinelswife & @sentinelsslut

PLAYLIST & VOICE CLAIM

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ghostarii · 1 year ago

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CAN’T TAKE MY EYES OFF YOU ! ～ JING YUAN . ❛ i want your bliss on bliss; a little company!

˖ ⁺ ⫾  CONTENT WARNING fem!reader ❱ golf dad!jing yuan ❱ dilf!jing yuan ❱ groping ❱ praise ❱ breeding kink ❱ size kink ❱ perv!jing yuan ❱ PWP!!!!! ❱ age gap ❱ cunnilingus ❱ multiple orgasms ❱ pussy drunk!jing yuan ❱ locker room sex ❱ jy’s kinda gross ❱ coercion ❱ creampie & unprotected sex (pls stay safe) ❱ pet names (mostly pretty [girl] & little one ❱ dubious consent ❱ dirty talk ❱ not proofread in the slightest ❱ minors and dc antis do not interact.

˖ ⁺ ⫾  TIP i’ve had this idea floating around in my wee wittle brain for quite some time so here’s perv golf dilf jing yuan ! ! i didnt rlly have a plot for this nor an idea on how to execute the vibe in my mind so truly i apologize if this is not that good :’( this got way messier than intended n i took forever writing it cause i kept getting stuck. i rlly rushed this toward the end cause i rlly wanted to post it so i rlly hope u guys like it 😿 rbs n feedback is always greatly appreciated <33 (pls don’t report i worked rlly hard on this n comm guidelines r so mean)

˖ ⁺ ⫾  GB 7.2k+ words .

JING YUAN CAN’T help it. He doesn't know what drives him to do it; to stare at you until holes are burned in you or touch you carelessly or talk about you like you're a piece of meat, he can't help it. It's akin to a primal urge, or manly instinct that makes him defile you disgustingly and unapologetically—and it makes him feel like a gross teen boy whose dick grows hard at the simple mention of women, but it's something about this aura of naivety and peace that swarms you that brings this carnal desire out of him. You’re the perfect prey, helpless, unsuspecting, and trusting of the ill-intended, hungry predator. Everything makes his heart flutter and his stomach gnarl—he turns into a different man because of you.

Friendly, neighborhood, retired Army General and current Xianzhou Police Chief Jing Yuan was a mask to cover perverse, snobby, and icky pervert Jing Yuan; the one who got a kick at making you do silly tasks so he can stare up your skirt and who always told you to take a seat so he can press up on you and grope you indistinctly. He sees you and immediately a deviant fire is kindled in his chest, his cheeks heat up and his skin runs cold. It's nasty, but he can't help it.

He needs you selfishly. He can't stand to watch you talk to other men and tend to their needs—sure, it's your job to pour them lemonade and escort them to the spa and guide them around the country club for a look at all the activities, and he respects that you're a hard and diligent worker, but seeing you with other men boils his blood. It's as if the lines between reality and his fucked up fantasy world have blurred, and you belong to him, you're his woman and he stakes his claim on you like a wild animal. Jing Yuan likes how you don't question how he suddenly needs your assistance, and that it's impossible for anyone but you to do it, because it lets these other men know that you respond to him. He's never felt this way about a woman before, not even the mother of his own child, so it means you're special. You mean much deeper to him than you could ever understand and all he wants is your company and to love you down into the cage of his heart.

It's not a crime to have a crush. It's not a crime to be in love with a woman you barely know. And it's not a crime to imagine her stuffed with your kids after watching her interact with yours. A crime? No. Weird? Maybe; but Jing Yuan does it anyway.

On the occasion when he brings Yanqing to the club, he gets on his best behavior. They play friendly games of golf and lounge about in the garden area, and eat up a storm in the illustrious dining hall—normal father-and-son things. Nothing out of the ordinary, people wouldn't even know that all Jing Yuan could think about was you and how sweet your pussy must taste as he eats ice cream with his son. He stays on his best outward behavior, truly—you wouldn't have even known he was in the bathroom jerking off because something about you today set him off.

He walks into the dining hall, looking around to see you. Yanqing had run off to the pool ages ago, so Jing Yuan had some time to himself…or, rather, time for you and him. He thought about how he would take you and claim you for far too long now. He thinks about it too much, actually. And that’s insane; considering the fact that you only started working at Stargazer Navalia Country Club two months ago.

He goes to his usual spot: against the wall on the northeastern side of the hall. It's slightly tucked away, the ceiling lights on that side are dim and the roaming eyes of others are limited. It's perfect for him when he touches you and even more perfect to convince you to have a seat and chat with him. You always listen, always fall for his lonely old man act, even though you've seen him with his snob friends Luocha and Dan Feng, and he's more than well-known around the community—he’s far from lonely, but his lips utter such pitiful deception that you can't help but spare him some of your company.

Jing Yuan has been doing this for a few weeks. He’ll invite you over for a refill of the house's special lemonade, sipping the juice as soon as you finish pouring, letting his lips smack obnoxiously, his tongue running across his top lip, and muttering out an “Ahh, so sweet…”, keeping eye-contact with you. His plump, rosy lips will break into a smile at your widened eyes and flustered expression, and that's when he asks you to stay. “Wouldn’t you give me a moment of your time? C’mon…call it…customer service.”

Usually, he’ll sit across from you and ask about your day. He’ll listen to your short spiels about your coworkers or your university and even your extremely personal information about your family and friends. It's cute how you open up with abandon, and he likes how apologetic you get when you feel like you’ve spoken too much. He’ll reach across the table and tap your pouted lips, “It’s okay, sweetheart. Keep going,” and he stares at your lips as you talk his ear off. But today—today, Jing Yuan is pushing the limits.

He invited you over, and instead of you sitting across from him, he pulls the chair next to him. Your proximity is close, no closer than ever before, but close enough that you feel like he can hear your heartbeat. He drapes a buff arm around the back of your chair, the pads of his fingers just barely ghosting over your biceps. He takes a deep breath, presumably to settle into his seat but actually to breathe you in. You smell sweet. He wonders if you taste sweet.

“How was your day?” the man starts. It's okay, it's fine, it’s just Jing Yuan—he’s fine! You nod your head, “Okay…not too eventful but um…kind of busy.” He immediately replies “Yeah? Tell me about it.”

Your shift started at eleven o'clock this morning, and you clocked in slightly late earning your managers, Ms. Yukong, mouthful of scolding. “Again? This is the third time in a row…” She was a strict woman. Yukong was adamant about running an establishment—not a job. In her mind, there's a distinct difference, a fine line that separates Stargazer Navalia Country Club from other leisure resorts, and that line was drawn by poise, professionalism, and punctuation—the three Ps. You essentially lacked all of that. You’re always late, and if you’re not late, you’re just barely making it, you run around a lot and don't collect yourself. Oftentimes, you take on too much than you can handle and overwhelm yourself, making a fool of yourself before the very opinionated eyes of the patrons. And you were clumsy. The country club was your first service job and your first job ever. You wouldn't have gotten the job if your parents didn’t force independence upon you and you complained to your friend, Tingyun, about your unfair predicament, and she promised to put in a good word for you to her boss. That good word was a basket full of fabrications and exaggerations. Yukong told you that you were fortunate to be allowed to work at the club, but it was hanging in the balance if you didn’t step up your game.

Jing Yuan hadn’t expected a full rant, but he was glad that you felt like you could talk to him. He wants to hold you, tell you that Yukong is a miserable bitch and she doesn't know what the hell she's talking about. You can't do any wrong—that woman wouldn’t know poise, professionalism, and punctuation if it slapped her across the face, so who was she to criticize perfection?

He gets even more upset when your chest starts to heave and you’re blinking back tears, explaining how you cried after leaving Yukong’s office and felt so useless and stupid. And you made it your mission today to do your best. No overworking, no clumsiness, and no more strikes earned. Your head was on a dart board, and Yukong was aiming at the bullseye.

You told him you just wanted to be good. To be worth something because you aren't incompetent. If only you knew how he saw you.

Tears run down your warm cheeks and your frowned lips curve into a sad smile, a laugh escaping as you pat away tears from your eyes. “Sorry, I don’t mean to cry…”

“…I should be getting back to work…” You move to get up but Jing Yuan stops you, his big hand on your thigh. This isn't new, but your eyes meet and you almost burst into tears again. Your lips frown up again and quiver and your eyes gloss over—oh, you poor thing. He squeezes your thigh as if to tell you you’re okay, but when that doesn't seem to stop the tidal wave of tears from beating at the barrier of your blinking eyelids, he pulls you in.

It's a hug. You've hugged people before. You do it all the time. Even to him—you’ve hugged Jing Yuan before, but this? This is different. He cradles the back of your head as you rest your cheek on his shoulder and he kisses your hair softly. He’s warm, like the summer heat, and your body feels like it’s on fire. His fingers stroke at your hair as if he was trying to soothe your feelings, and it works, you sniffle and softly whimper, curling your fingers against his thighs. He's taking care of you and if only you could understand what you’re doing to him. His cock is slowly growing stiffer and heat lights beneath his skin as it does yours. You feel so weak and small in his hold and God, is it doing something to him. Your breathing brushes your tits against his side and he wants to feel them pressed against his chest as he pounds into you. Your sniffles and tears that form small puddles on his shirt make him think about how you would cry from overstimulation and his big cock stretching you out.

He needs to get a grip. To stop his gross thoughts but it's no use when your entire existence is an aphrodisiac to him. It was a short hug, no longer than a minute, but it felt like it lasted a lifetime. When you pull away, Jing Yuan can't look at you. He can't look at your flushed cheeks, glossy eyes, clumped lashes, and pouted lips—he can’t look because he won’t be able to contain himself. You clear your throat and sit up, wiping your eyes and smudging your cheap mascara. He’s slightly upset that you’re leaving already, so before you go, he pinches the hem of your shirt, pulling you back.

“It's gonna be okay, little one. Have a good day.” He pats your head and smiles at you. You get flustered and quickly nod, running off as if to disappear.

You find it hard to have a good day when you’re wrapped up in your head, thinking about Yukong, yourself, and Mr. Jing Yuan. He was a nice man, sometimes too nice and you were unsure if that was a negative or a positive.

His touches feel like they’re burned into your skin. When you think about his tight, warm, and world-erasing hug, your skin tingles and births goosebumps to the surface. When you think about his deep, reverberating voice praising you and denying the existence of imperfection in you, you run hot. It’s a dangerous juxtaposition that left you an unfocused mess, productivity being the last thing of your concern. How bothered your body felt was in big bold letters in your brain, and it was hard to not prove Yukong’s harsh words about you right. You needed to get it together, but it was hard when Jing Yuan lingered in your mind like a deadly plague.

You catch Tingyun up during your dishes duty, scrubbing the dirtied plates, bowls, spoons, and forks and passing them to the girl to be dried. She laughs at you, shaking her head as she spins her hand around the inside of the porcelain bowl. “Can I be honest with you?” You nod at Tingyun’s question, “his intentions are less than pure. He’s nice and all but I think you should create boundaries. I don't like how every time you tell me about him he's grabbing on you and stuff…”

You have an issue with seeing the best in people. You can’t see anybody as evil—their actions don’t define their character in your mind and that's a fatal flaw. You shake your head at Tingyun’s words, smiling, “I don’t agree. He’s just…I don’t know.” you shut the water off, and set down the plate in your hand. “I think he’s just lonely—”

“—He has friends. His golfing buds…?” She points out. You sigh and shake your head. “Yeah, but they don't come to the club often.”

Tingyun rolls her eyes. “Can you be for real? What company can you provide to a man who’s nearly double your age?”

On that front, Tingyun had a point. You’re still in college, barely coasting your way through your third year and Jing Yuan is in his mid-to-late thirties, pushing forty. He was a dad and you were a student. He lived his life—he’s on his second career, and you’ve only just barely begun working your first job. You never knew what to talk to him about and you never understood what he talked about. There was a disconnect, but you felt like that didn't impede the slight friendship you had. “He just needs someone to talk to!”

“Didn't know talking included his hands on your ass but okay.” Her snide remark makes you frown. He wasn’t all that bad. Tingyun didn't get it.

Her eyes immediately meet yours and she softens. “Sorry.” You nod to her apology, cutting the tap back on and resuming your work. You didn't like to be judgemental and you wanted to give Jing Yuan the benefit of the doubt. He wasn’t all that bad and you liked him—for the most part. She pats your shoulder softly. She does mean well. “Just be safe, okay?”

“You never know what’s going on in someone's head.”

It’s so hot. The weather forecast called for unbearable heat and ungodly levels of humidity. The sun was angry at the world, shining down harshly and roasting your skin. Surprisingly, the club had seen the most members today. It was filled to the brim, bustling and condensing heat at every corner that you couldn’t escape.

Your uniform was dripping in sweat and it was sticking to your skin. Your hair, pulled away from your face, felt like it was dripping onto your shoulders. You were hot. And luckily for you, Qingque had taken off from work today due to the heat, leaving her shift open. You swooped in and took the role, slipping off your uniform when the clock hit 2:30 and sliding into the lifeguard swimsuit. It was tight fitting but comfortable and paired with the visor blocking the mean sun from your face, you felt fine.

Lathering a security layer of sunscreen onto your skin, you make your way to the pool, reciting Yukong’s words in your head. You had met with her at the beginning of your shift where she told you this was your last chance. Lifeguarding wasn’t some fun easy-money task. Screwing around the way you usually do could be at the cost of someone’s life and she wouldn’t put anyone at risk. At all. So you go with your head up and a warm smile, climbing up and sitting down with a hawk eye on the pool.

The water was clear blue and rippling. Bare flesh and bright swimsuits are blurred and hazy under the surface of the water. It’s a nostalgic scene, sweet chatter and giggles from the playing children, splashing water, and pattering wet feet on the hot pavement work together to induce peace upon you. This is a scene you could get used to, especially when Jing Yuan emerges from the water.

He looks divine. His upper body is exposed, large muscles flexed as he lifts his body weight from beneath the water, resting on the edge of the pool. His water-darkened hair slumps heavily in his ponytail, flipping over as he shakes his head, ridding of the water. And the water spills down his skin deliciously, thick droplets pathing down his body. It’s a sight to behold and you can't help but stare.

Jing Yuan wonders if this is how you feel. Ogled and objectified down to the bone. Your shade-hidden eyes bore into him when they should be watching the children. But he likes it. He feels like today is going to be a good day.

He comes to the pool often, usually just watching Yanqing show him his “tricks”, but he notices the order. The lifeguards cycle every forty-five minutes. He noticed it the first time when one of them took off immediately after jumping in after a panicking Yanqing, but today it was going to come to his aid. Today was the day. He’d waited too long, thought about it too hard…Jing Yuan’s fantasy world was going to pour into reality. That in itself was a terrible horror.

He waits patiently for forty-five minutes. Splashing water with his son occasionally, stepping out of the pool for a rest, or waving at you as he floats atop the water. Forty-five minutes. Tick tock.

He stops you on your way inside. His towel was thrown over his shoulder and his wet hair slung up into his fixed ponytail. You’re so enthralled by his state that you aren't taking into consideration the lazily fabricated lie that he needed your urgent attention to. You were no dummy. Jing Yuan is an overly attractive man, but he was out of your league and the father to a boy only seven years younger than you. Your lives were incompatible and frankly, he wasn't what you were looking for. Attractive? Yes. Boyfriend material? Not so much.

Regardless, you follow him to the locker room to look for his supposed missing watch. You ask him where his locker is located and he points around the corner, “125D.” His locker is tucked off around the corner, deep in the row and far from anyone’s initial line of sight. You see his golf bag resting against the wall and Yanqing’s goggles on the bench and make your way to it, “Where did you last have the watch?”

This was way out of your jurisdiction, and, besides, he was the police chief—what the hell could you do to help him find a missing watch? Nonetheless, you listen intently as he provides the details: he took it off to go swimming, placed it on the shelf in the locker, and came back to find it missing. You nod slowly, diligently looking through the slim locker. There’s not much in it and not much space a watch could slip through, so you’re confused. It's clearly not here. “I don't think I can be much help for you, you’re better off checking with whoever was in here last.”

And then his body is close to you. Your proximity thickens with the chlorine and sandalwood scent he carries, and his broad form towers over you. Your breath hitches and your body tenses as a large hand lays against the back of your thigh, running up your bare skin until it meets the curve of your ass. He doesn't say anything. Neither do you. You feel like you’re frozen, stuck beneath him, and that only urges him further.

His other arm wraps around your waist and he pulls you in, resting his chin on your shoulder and breathing you in with a deep breath. You can feel his exhale on your neck and you shudder, pushing away to create distance. Jing Yuan only tightens his big grip on you, “I want you…” he murmurs, leaning into your neck. His lips ghost over your skin and you squirm, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. This can't be happening. Not here. Not now.

You try to tell him that but it's futile. He presses his slightly chapped lips against your neck in fluttery kisses, wrapping his lips around nips of skin every now and then and leading a path to your collarbone. He steals a look at you from the side, “Tell me you don't want this and I'll stop.”

He now frames your body beneath his, pressing you against the cold lockers. You wince at the harshness of how he handles you—how his hands incessantly run up and down your body and gropes your assets and how he grinds his dick against your ass. He breathes heavily against you, grunting and growling in your ear as he edges himself closer and closer to the brink of losing control.

You try to speak up. To tell him you can't do this and that here is not the place. But you part your lips to object, only for a whimper to escape in its place. You’re shaking your head no but it opposes the sounds that leave you and the subconscious grind back of your hips. Jing Yuan uses his right hand to cup your pussy with a hardened gaze watching your reaction: your eyes widen and then squeeze shut, and you roll your lips inward, pressing them shut. He feels a slight throb when he presses his fingers against your sex, and the heat that radiates from you is all telling. “Stop fighting it…don’t deny it…you need me to take care of you.”

Kisses on your neck resume as he rubs your clothed clit, using the way your knees buckle as leverage to slightly bend your over, grinding into you rougher. “Can't you feel how hard you make me, baby? Fuck,” he whispers, his grinding now turning into desperate rutting. “Indulge me, just a little…say yes…”

You’re shaking your head no, fighting his words. You think that if you close your eyes hard enough you’ll wake up in the real world and this will have all just been in your head. The sight of the lockers in front of you dispels that thought instantly. You fight against your own body, swallowing down the sounds of pleasure that rumble in you at his touch. You promised Yukong you would do a better job. You liked working here. If she found out you had sex with a customer during work hours in the public locker room, she’d have your head on stake. But God, he knew what he was doing. It’s like Jing Yuan knows how to get into your head. All of his innuendos day in and day out, his flirtatious banter, and his wandering eyes the past few months have been test runs on you that he’s conducted for his fucked up memory log. So he could prepare for this moment. So he knew how to make you weak and make you succumb to his advances. You were a nice girl with a hard time saying no. You always indulged his requests and always did what was told to you. His constant “Say yes, baby. Say it. You know you want this,” in your ear was persuasive enough for your weak resolve. Soon enough, you’re quietly parroting his words.

“Y-yes…I…I want it,” you huff out, and he stops.

Jing Yuan lets you go—pulling off of you and spinning you around. Then, he’s swiftly pushing you against the lockers, caging you in with his big arms on either side of you. His golden eyes are richer, darkened with fantasy and lust as they bore into yours. His rosy lips curve into a sinister smirk, “Look me in my eyes and say you want me to fuck you.”

Your eyes meet, locking with each other softly. You’re telling yourself in your head that you can say no, but your mouth moves first, “I want you…to…” you grow shy at the words, and Jing Yuan smiles at you. He steps closer, grabbing your chin softly and your waist with his free hand, pulling you in. “Sweet girl…” he mumbles, brushing his lips against yours and bumping your noses.

Your kiss is sweet. It's the type of fairytale kiss, the type of wonderful kiss that whips the air out of you and has fireworks blowing in your pretty little head. Your lips mold and work together, and he takes his time getting acquainted with your mouth. He waits until you part your lips on your own to invade your mouth, and even then, he tenderly explores the cavern. He kisses you with dominance and experience. He kisses you with passion and desire. He kisses you like he’s in love with you.

You wrap your hands around his neck, pulling him into you, chasing his kiss as if he was trying to leave you. It begins to heat up. Impatience grows like mold between the two of you, you begin to want and need each other more. His hand gripping your chin wraps briefly around your neck to pull you closer, and his hand around your waist moves to your ass, cupping a cheek in his palm and roughly squeezing. He sucks on your tongue, moaning deeply into your mouth. Teeth start to clash and tongues start to bump and spin, spit dribbling out of your mouths. He bites onto your bottom lip as he pulls away, and then catches the drool running down your face with his tongue, running back up on its path to your mouth. With your saliva on his tongue, he kisses you harshly one last time—a kiss that makes you lean your head against the lockers behind you, giving him access to the expanse of your neck.

He admires the hickeys he already left, kissing them tenderly before leaving a few more. His teeth drag on your neck, and he's pulling the straps of your swimsuit down your arms. It's agonizingly slow and you look away, not able to face him as he unveils your body to him.

It's like a dream. Even better than. All of his fantasies and perverted thoughts haven't done any justice to how you look—the most perfect, pretty boobs with hard nipples that are begging to be played with, the most gorgeous frame that pops even more without your clothes, your dips and curves begging to be filled by his grip, and your pretty pussy, which he takes his time getting to and unveiling. He gets on his knees, kisses your soft thighs, and slowly pulls your swimsuit down to your ankles. You try to hide, feeling vulnerable and anxious in your fully naked state but he pulls your legs apart, kissing the inside of your thigh. “You’re beautiful…”

“Prettiest thing I've ever seen…” he says, trailing up your legs. He doesn't give you time to fall into your mind. He exhales deeply, letting the air from his nose blow against your pussy. You squirm but he pulls your legs apart again, looking up at you as he places a chaste kiss on your slit.

You’re already wet, susceptible to his touch, and fragile. You slightly leak past your labia and his lips shine in your slick. Eye contact remains as he licks your arousal off his lips, swallowing your taste with a satisfied hum. “So sweet, too. Better than I ever imagined.”

Something about his admission flusters you. You knew he enjoyed your company, but you didn't know he put thought into you this way. It flatters you, to say the least, and your body responds in a very telling way: your clit throbbing and hole clenching in need.

Jing Yuan smiles at how you can't hold eye contact with him and how you look down at him with urging eyes. Your body gives him the okay your mouth fails to do, and he dives in, wedging his tongue between your folds to lick a thick stripe. You gasp loudly and slam your palm against the locker behind you, seemingly caught off guard by his action. And then he does it again. This time, making his way to your clit slowly, only to circle around the bud but not pay it any attention. And again, this time only lightly flicking your clit with his tongue and ghosting over it but ultimately focusing on collecting your sweet juices, slurping it down with an obnoxious volume.

Your position is fixed—you’re stuck. Your legs are draped over his shoulders as you basically sit on his face, and he holds you tightly by your soft thighs. Your gaze is filed unto each other, unmoving, and he watches with glee at how you react when he finally gives your clit attention. He wraps his lips around the bud, sucking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it. You practically burst into tears. You moan out, immediately threading your fingers in his white locks. “Oh, fuck,”

He abuses your clit until your voice goes hoarse. He doesn't care that people could probably hear you. He wants them to. He wants them to hear his name flow from your mouth like syrup out of a maple tree—thick in lust and fatally sweet. Your moans sound even prettier in reality. Jing Yuan has come to the conclusion that you are one of a kind. No wild or active imagination could do you justice. He could eat you out for days—you’re just so sweet and so easy to please. Your clit getting sucked on sets you off and when he runs his thick tongue through your sloppy folds to collect your stream of arousal, you whine even louder, competing with his slurping and licking noises.

“I want you to cum on my tongue, pretty girl,” he says, pulling away from your folds. “Wanna taste all of you,” and he presses a kiss to your clit. You suck your bottom lip between your teeth, nodding rapidly, “Please! Wanna cum so bad…”

He’s determined now. Like a man starved, he practically feasts on you. His tongue is everywhere—licking and swirling from every direction and it drives you insane. You can feel the burning tension in your gut churn and to egg its release out of you, you toy with your nipples, resting your head against the lockers as ecstasy overcomes you. You whine and whimper out meek little “Yes!”’s and “Oh, God!”’s like those are the only words you know, feeling your orgasm so close that it heats your skin to the touch.

Your back arches and eyes blow wide, your body fighting against itself. You trap his head between your thighs but push his head away, damn near screaming at the top of your lungs that it's too much and you can't take it. This pushes Jing Yuan to do more, to tighten his hold on your thighs and suffocate himself in your pussy. Knock the tip of his nose against your puffy clit and probe your clenching hole with his tongue. His jaw hurts but he keeps it up well, humming and moaning endlessly to send warm vibrations through your skin. His name breaks off of your tongue so weakly and your head feels light. It's like something in you snaps, like all composure and decency melts off of you in an instant. You could care less about Yukong or anybody else for that matter. This entire room could cease to exist and it wouldn't matter because Jing Yuan has blasted you off to cloud nine. The feeling of his tongue swimming through your folds is pleasure in its purest form and it pushes you to the deep end, drowning you in overwhelming ecstasy.

The grip you have on his hair tightens and you pull the long locks as if it’d stabilize you from the wreckage your pending orgasm was bringing upon you. A silent moan falls from your lips, followed by an airy plea, “J-Jing Yuan, please..!” Your voice falters and falls into another broken moan. Your back arches yet again and your hips buck into his face, and there it is. That tight band in your stomach snaps and your orgasm wracks through you roughly. Your thighs shake and your chest heaves heavily—you feel like you can't breathe. And he doesn't let up, wrapping his lips around your sensitive clit for the harshest suck of the night, humming happily as you squirm and spasm in his hold.

You come undone, dripping down his face like a rushing waterfall. He cleans you up with his tongue, continuing to help you come down from your high even as you whimper and sniffle from overstimulation. With peppery kisses, he pulls away from your pussy, licking his lips clean and rolling his eyes at your taste. “You did so good for me, baby.”

A carnal glint shines in his eye as he takes your waist in his hands, pulling you into him for a kiss. Your lips connect with fervor. He immediately establishes dominance, invading your mouth with hunger and greed. Your teeth clash and knock and your tongue is bullied by his. Your taste on his mouth is strong and it's hard to ignore it, and on him, it tastes wonderful. Your legs are jelly, useless. He holds you up with his hands but ultimately decides to press you against the lockers once again, grinding his painfully aching hard-on onto your thigh. No. This can't happen. The longer you're in the locker room with him, the more risk that's run. People are going to start leaving the club soon, and you don't know what you’d do if they caught you like this.

You try to push him away but he only presses into you more, rutting against you more desperately and aggressively. You gave him an inch, and now he's going to take a mile.

He growls against your lips before pulling away, resting his forehead on yours. “Gotta have you, baby,” he starts, pulling down his swim trunks. His hard cock jumps out, leaking and hard and so thick it makes your eyes bulge out of your head. You can't do this. You open your mouth to protest but he just kisses you again, shutting you down instantly. He takes your hand in his, bringing it down to his dick, and forces you to hold his girth in your hand. He's heavy and hard. Two prominent veins bulge and throb and his angry tip spills milky beads of precum into a pool in his slit. He makes you jerk him off, groaning into your mouth deeply, “Fuck. Need you so bad, little one. Need your sweet little pussy wrapped around me, need to feel you, to fill you—oh, fuck. Let me? Give me that, please.”

He practically begs you. He ruts into your hand and speaks into your mouth like a bitch in heat—you’re finding it hard to deny him. And he keeps begging. Keeps nipping at your lips and swiping your jaw now and then with his tongue. He's desperate. And you feel like you have no choice. “…Okay.”

Jing Yuan doesn't notice the uncertainty in your tone. He nearly jumps for joy, kissing you so passionately and hooking his hands on your ass, hoisting you up into the air. You squeal and he laughs, kissing you again as he properly positions his tip at your entrance. “Been thinking about this since I first laid eyes on you,”

As he starts talking, he slowly slides you down on his length. You gasp and wince—he’s so fucking big. Your nails immediately dig into his shoulders and you try to brace yourself, but good God, it’s like he’s splitting your body into two. He slowly sinks in, kissing your cheeks and mumbling praises that don't do much to ease the burn of the stretch. You almost want to stop, but he's like a brick wall. Impossible to get through.

“You’re so tight…” He feels like he’s breaking you in. Like you’re untouched and not prepared to take him and it sets him off. Your whimpers are sweet and the way you hug him like you're scared to let go ignites that all-too-familiar carnal flame. He wants to ravage you. It takes a few moments but he finally bottoms out with a deep groan. “So tight…so wet…fuck, it's like you’re made for me.” He does an experimental thrust and his heart swells at how you moan into his ear and clench around him tighter. “Taking me so well,”

This starts a rhythm of slow thrusts, the two of your bodies getting to know each other. Jing Yuan is so big and he feels even bigger inside of you. Your cunt feels like it's being reformed in its shape, stretching around him widely to accommodate every bit of him. And your pussy around him was so worth the wait. Your gummy walls welcome him with a tight, warm hug, and you leak down his length unabashedly. The combination of your arousal and his slow thrusts get you two acquainted quickly, and he steadily starts to pick up the pace.

Jing Yuan has shortly found his rhythm. He thrusts up into you while simultaneously maneuvering your hips down and you’ve never felt anything like this before. He pounds you. Hard. Rough. And slowly gains speed. His heavy balls slap at your ass and your puffy clit kisses his pelvis and it all makes you weak. You bury your head into his neck and pull him closer to you, feeling enveloped in his strong hold. How he's easily able to hold you up and fuck you the way is he makes your stomach churn and knot. There's a rhythmic slapping that coordinates with his grunts and your cries and it's so loud and lewd, you’re sure the whole country club knows what you're doing. But it doesn't bother you. Because yet again, Jing Yuan works your body like an expert, plunging into your depths so well that you can't do anything but clench and drip around him like a broken faucet.

His hands are on your ass, squeezing and slapping your cheeks to make you squeal out, practically yelling his name for the masses. It all feels too good. He knows what he's doing—how to angle his hips and find your G-spot almost instantly and abuse it until you feel like your brain has melted into mush, how to mix the pain of his calloused hands slapping your ass sweetly with the pleasure he bestows upon you, how to sweet-talk into your ear and flatter you so well that butterflies are born in your tummy and your hole clenches even tighter around him. He's experienced. He's taking your body on a trip it's sure to never forget and never replicate, and you wish you knew how he did it, because he’s only been thrusting into you for a few minutes and you feel like you're about to explode.

He's now pounding into you more furiously, and you chalk that up to his orgasm approaching him as well. “I'm gonna cum again—!” you announce, voice low in a broken whisper. His thrusts get sloppy and he grunts to concur, “Me too—look at me,”

Your eyes meet and this might be the rawest moment you've ever had with Jing Yuan. There's nothing but passion and adoration in his golden eyes as he looks at you. And as he kisses you for the nth time this evening, it's soft. Kind. A complete one-eighty from how desperately and angrily he bullies his thick cock into your drooling cunt. “Cum with me.” It's more of a demand than a request, but you nod in understanding anyway. You want to feel him throb and empty out his balls inside you. You want to hear his voice crack and break as he moans out your praises. You want to feel him give it to you until he can't anymore.

He snaps his hips into you, hard and one at a time. He goes as deep as possible, making your eyes blow wide and spill tears. He's so deep in your stomach it's almost like he pops the bubble of your orgasm himself, and you're spilling all over him in a matter of seconds. It was unexpected and you drawl out a whiny moan, grinding your hips back onto him subconsciously. Your orgasm makes him follow suit, and soon enough, you're filled to the brim with his semen. Warm ropes mix nastily with your own release and it drips out of your hole as he continues to thrust through your orgasms.

“Oh shit…’s good, little one.” He kisses your cheek and carries you to the bench, laying you down. “One more for me, ‘kay?”

Your mind is lagging behind. You didn't even catch his statement until he was sliding into you again, pressing your hands against your stomach to feel him inside of you. “So deep…”

“Yeah? Feels good, doesn't it?” He wastes no time, not sparing a second to waste. You're still so sensitive, and so is he, and everything is so sloppy. So messy. Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he finds your sweet spot again, and fuck, it feels so good. “‘M not gonna last…”

Jing Yuan basically crushes you against the hard bench, closing the proximity between you two and harboring the flame between your chests. His head in the crook of your neck shakes, “Me neither. Want you to keep it all in.” His pathetic rutting elicits the wettest sounds from your pussy, and the empty locker room echoes it around with bass. He runs on and on about stuffing you full, fucking his kids into you and you don't know what at what point that started to sound good to you. Your belly rumbled in that all-too-familiar wait, your orgasm wasted no time in building.

Your eyes start to tear even harder and white blotches soon cover your whole line of sight—but not before Jing Yuan stills inside of you, dumping his second load inside of you with a guttural groan and clench of his abdomen. He rubs rough circles on your clit, murmuring about how you can do it until you clench around him, squirming beneath him as your orgasm hits you again. He doesn't pull out. He keeps you plugged up with his cock, forbidding his cum from leaving you. You didn't expect this to happen. Ever. But Jing Yuan? He always knew. It was just a matter of when.

So when your sight returns and you open your eyes to see him leaning over you, you smile happily. It was almost like you're Cinderella and he's Prince Charming, coming to rescue you from your hellish job in the most unconventional way possible. But unconventional feels good.

He won. No matter what he had to do, he won. His fantasy came to fruition and he would rather nothing else. This moment will be forever cherished, even if the distant opening of the door sounds off, and footsteps rapidly approaching bring you back to reality. He won. And nothing, or nobody, can change that. You’re all his now.

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